tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70992307736175473852019-09-06T11:31:51.464-07:00ANJAˑMARI a girl with a blogAnjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-40888314636911451972019-07-03T13:44:00.000-07:002019-07-03T13:44:10.293-07:00Fed is best and a good pump is best too!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9_mHDACGtX0/XRnwNh25cMI/AAAAAAAACR4/khjoThE0ep87M7ZIuryhZ5knmk1IvULgACLcBGAs/s1600/me1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1319" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9_mHDACGtX0/XRnwNh25cMI/AAAAAAAACR4/khjoThE0ep87M7ZIuryhZ5knmk1IvULgACLcBGAs/s640/me1.jpg" width="527" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Before I became a mama, I never realized how much stress and worry I will feel over how my kids are eating.&nbsp; I feel like the obsession starts during these first few days with all this pressure to keep them alive and thriving, and then it continues later into their.. I don’t know adulthood-ness?<br /><br />When Simon was born, I was obsessing over this so much, so much so that I gave myself panic attacks… since I was nursing -&nbsp; I wasn’t sure how much he was eating at a feeding, when he was fussy I was clueless whether he was hungry or tired, I wanted him to sleep better, but I could never tell the difference, he was my first one, it is hard to know then… it is hard to believe that things are ok, it is hard to trust anyone telling you that you are doing a good job and that they are okay… anyhow I digress, anyway, that moment was when I first considered pumping, I have never done it before even though I had bought a breast pump before giving birth as one of the ”registry items a first time mom needs to have”. Simon was four months old at a time and I wanted to organize his day into naps and awake times and solve the feeding enigma. Back then I was expecting a bit too much out of “putting a baby on a schedule” and was completely naïve and maybe even crazy… but it is how we all learn ;)<br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YkRmhW8fOCo/XRnwgCeMotI/AAAAAAAACSA/B4kZt-hYJQw4EwpC1TiCyLHNA-PnwM9HwCLcBGAs/s1600/me2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1266" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YkRmhW8fOCo/XRnwgCeMotI/AAAAAAAACSA/B4kZt-hYJQw4EwpC1TiCyLHNA-PnwM9HwCLcBGAs/s640/me2.jpg" width="505" /></a><br /><br />Anyhow, pumping was a surprise to me, because it was hard, I didn’t know how to do it, how much time I should do it for, when? nothing…. Long story short, it gave me even more panic attacks and added to my anxiety… but like everything in first-time-motherhood, you navigate through each storm and eventually, notice you are still swimming on the surface and things are, in fact, okay, like everyone said they would be. I had to research and learn all things pumping, and slowly figured things out.<br /><br />I have three kids, and my pumping story was different with each one. With Simon I pumped the most, first, for control, to check if he really had a whole feed and was he ready for a longer night-stretch or not. Then I pumped for leaving him with Cass when I was in grad school three times a week. I also was worried about my supply so I kept pumping for storage, by the time he was done nursing at 16 months, I had like two gallons of breastmilk to donate left.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pmnoo8Jsna8/XRnxLrgOQYI/AAAAAAAACSI/_oIXiSuxI7glBWpVNnjNladU1P5aphV7gCLcBGAs/s1600/1room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pmnoo8Jsna8/XRnxLrgOQYI/AAAAAAAACSI/_oIXiSuxI7glBWpVNnjNladU1P5aphV7gCLcBGAs/s640/1room.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><br />With Leo, I pumped less, I guess I was more confident in myself, trusted my intuition, mothering skills and in my supply. I pumped milk when I had to leave him, or to ad to oatmeal or other solids. I had a very small emergency stash in the fridge, mostly because he never really liked the bottle and nursed a lot, so I never felt like I had time or energy to start building it.<br /><br />With Zoe, I pump to leave her when I go to a dentist or hairdresser, she alike Leo doesn’t easily take the bottle, so I cannot switch between bottle and breast easily (not as easily as with Simon - thank goodness he was my first or I would go crazy!) I thought, I would have to pump regularly upon returning to work, but then I changed my mind about returning to work… which is a whole other topic… so I do not need to get into a regular pumping regiment quite yet, however I want to build a little freezer stack as I think it is beneficial to add it later on to their food even when they are toddlers… maybe even when they wean, as occasional breastmilk in their morning oats can really help with their immunity… trust me I learned that the hard way, Simon was a champ and Leo got sick all through his toddlerhood, it didn’t help he went to daycare the soonest and didn’t drink breastmilk while at it.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DKS4oAq9f4c/XRnyOqjH0yI/AAAAAAAACSw/TcoqivRQCl8Hh_14Q63sjbwHAKDMatj1ACEwYBhgL/s1600/3room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1239" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DKS4oAq9f4c/XRnyOqjH0yI/AAAAAAAACSw/TcoqivRQCl8Hh_14Q63sjbwHAKDMatj1ACEwYBhgL/s640/3room.jpg" width="494" /></a></div><br /><br />As I mentioned I had three pumps, but not until I discovered Luna by Motif, did I fully appreciate how comfortable pumping can be! Now, I am really motivated to build a better stash for Zoe and maybe even increase her bottle intake so it is a bit easier to switch between when needed (right now she will only take it, when really hungry, and pretty upset by then too, which I would like to avoid).<br /><br />Anyhow, here is a few tips that I think could be useful for any mama who needs to approach the topic of pumping, it took me three kids to figure out the joist of it, so I thought I should share in case they can help someone sooner!<br /><br />-tip one, ask about pumping at the hospital! Even if you decided to nurse exclusively and don’t plan on pumping any time soon.&nbsp; Lactation consultants will help get you up to speed when the time comes and be a great resource on how to get a pump with insurance, or how to rent one etc. I recently found out that my <a href="https://motifmedical.com/luna/?utm_source=anjamari&amp;utm_medium=instagram&amp;utm_%20campaign=luna" target="_blank">Luna pump</a> is covered by insurance, but check with your plan advisor on the proper procedure to start the process.<br /><br />- tip two: give yourself grace, it will take time to learn how to do it, try&nbsp; to get familiar with your pump. How it works, how to put it together etc. There are so many pumps out there, some can look really intimidating. I like to use online resources on how to set it up rather than reading through the manual, my Luna pump has a ton of great resources on how to get started, assembly (which is super easy by the way), cleaning (also super easy) etc.!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aeFxrGYBM9o/XRnyOD2icLI/AAAAAAAACSs/tWNIcXf7cJYWvsI9GHcfb55AbiLRWiNIwCEwYBhgL/s1600/me3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1199" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aeFxrGYBM9o/XRnyOD2icLI/AAAAAAAACSs/tWNIcXf7cJYWvsI9GHcfb55AbiLRWiNIwCEwYBhgL/s640/me3.jpg" width="478" /></a></div><br /><br />-tip three, start slow, if you are still nursing, try to latch the baby on one breast and attach the pump on the other, do not think about what is happening with it, alike you do not check the baby’s mouth, the less attention you spend on the amount of milk you pump, the better you will do! The best pump is the one that is not too distracting for the baby, so you can pump in a dark room or in a quiet space, Luna is super quiet (pumps discreetly with a 45-decibel hum, almost like a white noise machine for the baby!) and has a night-light that won’t strain eyes in the darkness nor wake up the baby.<br /><br />-tip five, make sure it fits right! It took me two pumps that sort of fit, but in fact they didn’t, one always pinched and the other thug, I finally realized that the flange size will really help with these discomforts! You can buy Luna with different flange sizes and they have a flange sizing guide on their website to ensure you are getting the perfect fit.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4iZ9n3UPUU0/XRnyFLFay7I/AAAAAAAACSU/WGDwsCSkQD42rQ3wdkmuWTRJC2clU0CkgCLcBGAs/s1600/2kitchen.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4iZ9n3UPUU0/XRnyFLFay7I/AAAAAAAACSU/WGDwsCSkQD42rQ3wdkmuWTRJC2clU0CkgCLcBGAs/s640/2kitchen.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><br />- try to do it frequently, but don’t stress over if you skip a session, stress and anxiety is worse for your supply than a skipped session! Your peace of mind is really the key, I always heard that nursing/pumping is all a confidence game, and it truly is, so be good to yourself, pamper yourself a little and remember you are doing an amazing job!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F8fU42C6AY4/XRnyDf-z3UI/AAAAAAAACSw/vKMqDerbvYMVPr_i0gkH9kurRQVYETr8ACEwYBhgL/s1600/2room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F8fU42C6AY4/XRnyDf-z3UI/AAAAAAAACSw/vKMqDerbvYMVPr_i0gkH9kurRQVYETr8ACEwYBhgL/s640/2room.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><br />Overall, I am very happy with my newest pump the&nbsp;<a href="https://motifmedical.com/luna/?utm_source=anjamari&amp;utm_medium=instagram&amp;utm_%20campaign=luna" target="_blank">Motif LUNA&nbsp;</a>, my favorite features are its extremely<br />efficient suction levels and the LED night light! It is truly a game changer to have a reliable, efficient and well-designed pump; an added bonus is that it's covered by insurance.<br /><div><br /></div><i><b><br /></b></i><i><b>Blog post written in partnership with Motif Medical - Luna pump producer.</b></i><br /><br /><br />Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-16300114496541150042019-05-12T10:43:00.000-07:002019-05-13T16:15:32.648-07:00Zoe Grey - Birth Story<style type="text/css">p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke: #000000} p.p2 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke: #000000; min-height: 13.0px} span.s1 {font-kerning: none} </style> <br /><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="p2"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The story of Zoe Grey begins one day before I took a pregnancy test,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">&nbsp; </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">to be exact, it began when I was teaching the boys how to braid flower crowns out of a million daffodils they picked up for me, then Cass casually mentioned something like “it would be nice to see see you doing this for a little girl”. And in that moment, I felt something, some peculiar certainty that I will, and she is coming and she will be so special… Everything about ZoZo girl was special ever since,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">&nbsp;</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">even her due date, scheduled on Christmas Day.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">&nbsp;</span><span class="s1"></span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br /></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">She was my most physically challenging pregnancy, but also the one that taught me the most about my resilience, and how strong I really am, even if I don't believe in it, or ridicule myself for even saying that. I felt the most nauseous and the most tired with her. These symptoms lessened but never went away, I kept on going though and surprised even myself with how much I managed to deal with, while feeling so miserable.<span class="Apple-converted-space">&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br /></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">At about 30 weeks, I was diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes, I had blood sugar issues with both boys, but never enough to end up on insulin, but like everything else, ZoZo girl, pushed me one step further, and I had to take an insulin shot every night. Because of the official diagnosis, Zoe growth was under surveillance and if there was ever a concern she is getting too big, I would be induced. Since I had a large baby before (Leo was 10 lbs) with hemorrhage afterwards, my doctor was worried about it happening again and didn’t want her to grow too big again. If I were not to deliver before Christmas, my OBGyn and midwife decided it would be best, if I get induced the day after. I was certain I would deliver early, with Simon I didn’t even make it till 37 weeks so I constantly worried about going into labor prematurely. After all, I was working full time, traveling and chasing two kids on the daily, but she decided otherwise, my ZOZO girl knew it wasn't her time.<span class="Apple-converted-space">&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyRQwldVkPaiX4-COXK8wgljTGI9rnkzN_vYMCxMRUgNsGYIWyPYBLp7fTa1Ux1IMdpFlE9AJ3mj4GgvTPF8A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0' />&nbsp;<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dynTqnYzQ7F8lJC22eQuXruhc3PVsXOj6S81AAa8dNnclqPp3RhVEOBBtoy_ABFV0y_dCH64t5H4lXuL7LXWQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0' /></div><div class="p2"><br /></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1"><br /></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Fast-forward to December 26th, early in the morning Cass and I drove to the hospital for my scheduled induction. The hospital was very quiet, many people were still on their Christmas break. When we checked in at around 9am, it felt like a ghost town. We were admitted to the antenatal unit shortly after, I glanced over to the other side of the corridor to Labor&amp; Delivery with a slight jealousy of women who would check in that day there directly. It felt like I was a million years away from being in labor (apart from Braxton Hicks that I had since like 26 weeks, I felt nothing or very little) and I felt like it will be another one of those episodes, when it takes days to get there. My regular doctor wasn't on call, so I was seen by someone I didn’t even know, but she was very friendly and informative at the same time, I trusted in her judgment just moments into talking to her. She explained the procedure and that no pitocin will be given that day and that they would try to ripen my cervix by giving me a pill, called Misoprostol… I haven never heard of it, and the OB told me not to even google it "cause “a lot of weird stuff would come up", so I took it all at face value and tried to think positively, which is hard for me actually ;) Later, I found out that the pill is actually used to terminate an early pregnancy, and has lots of side-effects, but many OBGYNs testify to its less invasive effects and it being a more “natural” way to induce labor than pitocin. Anyhow, we decided to give it a try, since at that moment I felt like no matter what I do my hands were tied, and it would take a lot of battling to stand my ground and persuade the doctors to leave me alone, and allow me to wait for the labor to start on its own. Also, my in-laws were staying for only few more days and I would loose a chance to have someone with the boys while in the hospital so I felt like I didn't have much choice either way, but let the interventions begin… and yes, I sort of felt like that<span class="Apple-converted-space">&nbsp; </span>it seems to be the case with me. I was however trying to stay positive and not let my mind sink too deep into self-pity, that core disappointment that I never have the birth experience that I had imagined for myself. But what is that anyway? why does it have to be a certain way? why do we always do it to ourselves?</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-75QrzZy1G7g/XNhZbs3RMjI/AAAAAAAACNw/JEtQNmiZOAYxzIYPxRN6PIjMVJAIjFrKgCLcBGAs/s1600/A1CE67A5-464F-460A-B7B3-203E0AD71772.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-75QrzZy1G7g/XNhZbs3RMjI/AAAAAAAACNw/JEtQNmiZOAYxzIYPxRN6PIjMVJAIjFrKgCLcBGAs/s320/A1CE67A5-464F-460A-B7B3-203E0AD71772.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="p2"><br /></div><div class="p2"><br /></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">The hours have passed, the contractions strengthened enough to become noticeable, however being in labor twice, I knew this was nothing significant to signal the onset of labor, it was a mere abdominal muscle contraction, almost pleasant cause I felt like I am flexing and maybe possibly I still have some muscle left down there. We continued to watch TV, ordered some food from the menu, which always has me excited that I get to choose a starter, a main course and a dessert, followed by coffee, juice and soda! and I don't have to pay for any of it? say what? in truth, it is probably the most expensive meal from a very average cafeteria, we get to order (looking at the hospital bill later on) but who cares, right?!<span class="Apple-converted-space">&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">After lunch, I was given another dose of Misoprostol - since the first one started contractions and my body responded pretty well to it. The baby and I were monitored after each dose on the monitor for two hours to ensure either I or she were not going into any distress. After that obligatory two hour-watch, we were released to walk around, we had to stay on hospital premises, but other than that we could do whatever we wanted. This hospital was by far the smallest one I labored in, some parts are still in renovation, so there wasn’t that many places to walk to. We kept looping between a coffee place and cafeteria, between one entrance and the other, we goofed off on the staircase, which I decided to climb a few times to strengthen the contractions, but nothing major was happening… and time was passing by.<span class="Apple-converted-space">&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxpUoYDThCjH4ZQgE_zSbrgVQzv7VL-MNbEdvj1-QGg9E2IH3DH9g8onIHgneVfjwfgCcH4r8hloiNEFQTRwA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0' /></div><div class="p2"><br /></div><div class="p2"><br /></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">By like 4pm, I was to be checked again and due for the final dose of the drug for the day, supposedly I reached the limit to take in 24 hours, so depending on how I was doing, I would be sent home. After the final dose, we walked again and I started to really notice each contraction, they were getting stronger and closer together, but still not too painful and more like muscle spasms, still unlike the true bone-moving pain I remembered from the full-on labors. It started getting dark and even more quiet around the hospital, the entire shift of nurses and my doctor went home and a new shift had started, my new nurse brought in my new doctor because she thought on the monitor I looked pretty much in active labor. The new OB was a middle aged man that seemed a bit reserved, almost skeptical about this method and approach, he didn't quite impress me with his personality either. He described me as ‘’too comfortable to be in labor” and “even though on the monitors I contract-up a storm, in person I don't seem in labor”, he said he would come check me in an hour and send me home. In the meantime, a nurse from labor and delivery came to ask how I was doing, because my readings were shown on their monitors and they thought I was in labor and would be checking in shortly, cause as she concluded “this girl wants to get out tonight”… she couldn’t believe I wasn’t in a lot of pain, because my contractions were looking very much as active labor to her… with a perspective of time, I think the drug augmented them, but didn’t move my body along quite yet.<span class="Apple-converted-space">&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Anyhow, the L&amp;D nurse told me that I should stay and maybe they would give me some pitocin to speed things up, then left to talk to my doctor and nurse. When they all came back into the room, he checked my cervix which hadn’t moved much since the morning. With that being said he recommended that I go home cause I was not in labor and the strong contractions would subside on their own at night. My nurse kept looking at the monitor readings and showed something on that super-long roll of paper to him, but he didn’t even flinch and let the room, so it was decided. They went to get my release papers and I would wait to be dismissed. I was a little bummed at that point, had my hopes up but then let down…. but at the same time I was getting tired of the contractions and all the walking and hyping myself for labor, thus the thought of going home to give my body and mind some rest didn't seem so bad. I thought that since I can not get it done quickly, I needed a reset to be able to face this long pilgrimage to labor once more tomorrow morning. After all, all my labors&nbsp; feel like a marathon, not a sprint. <span class="Apple-converted-space">&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br /></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">When the nurse came back with the release papers, she looked a bit concerned and said that I should know my body best, so if anything feels off, I should give them a call or come back. She kept asking how I was doing to which I responded that now I would probably be calling my doc to go to the hospital - not leave it - but if it was just the pills tricking my muscles to contract and my body was not ready, then there was no point in sitting there, and I should be okay resting at home before the next day… We then quickly packed up and drove home, it was a quick and easy drive since the highway was pretty much deserted at that point, one of my initial worries about choosing this particular hospital was that even though it wasn't far away per se, it was a few miles on a highway and during rush hour, it could take up to an hour to get to it from my house. We made it home pretty quickly, even made a stop at a gas station to fill up a tire, cause a light was blinking at us that the pressure was low, I even went into the store to see if they had any fresh decaf, but they didn’t, wha a bummer, not my lucky night I thought…. That whole time while feeling the contractions, I was trying to block them out of my mind, telling myself they were false and will go away soon… When we got home, the kids were in bed and my in laws were watching something on TV, Cass and I quickly grabbed some snacks in the kitchen and I decided to take a long bath to relax and give my body some needed rest. We made some herbal tea and Cass heated up some leftover chilli, cause he didn't get dinner, he took his bowl upstairs to the bathroom to keep me company, and to make sure my mind stays in the right place, as he always does… we talked and made a little picnic on the bathroom floor, I managed to relax and forget for a moment about the next day pressures… Cass was reading something on his phone to me and eating his chilli, I decided the water was getting too cold so I said I will take a quick shower to rinse off, Cass stepped outside to get me a fresh towel, I got up, and bent over to unplug the drain, and then felt a weird pop inside of me…. I wasn't sure what it was, I thought I was either imagining things, or something in the tub popped or my back did… I finished the shower and stepped outside, once I did all the sudden I felt a much stronger contraction, it was different, more painful, I immediately recognized that familiar, dry pull in the lower abdomen, that throbbing pain, as if something is trying to move your insides around. I sat on the toilet and felt a little twinkle that wasn’t pee, and then again and again, then I knew my water broke, I noticed that the water is slightly greenish and panicked… at that moment I decided there is no point in calling the hospital and we needed to head out whether it was time or not. Within the next ten minutes my contractions got stronger and stronger, there were getting closer together and way more painful… we started to rush, I wasn't sure what I was doing, let alone thinking of putting proper clothes back on, so I put on some undies and wrapped a towel around my hips cause pants seemed obsolete at that point since I was leaking anyway with each contraction. I put on the same sweater I had before and grabbed my cosmetic bag cause I thought<span class="Apple-converted-space">&nbsp; </span>maybe I will be able to at least put some mascara back on and maybe some highlighter, in the car….all day I was excited that i had good hair and makeup done so I wont have those first pics looking like a drab, but here i was, with leftover mascara under my eyes, in a towel, cowboy boots, my giant teddy coat wobbling back to the car. I grabbed some necklaces into my pocket cause I thought I will put my jewelry back on too, between the contractions, oh silly me…because by then, I had to stop everything I was doing each time the contraction started cause they were too intense. Cass was panicking a bit too so we don't remember much from getting packed back into the car, it was after 10pm but it felt like we were driving in the middle of the night. I started timing the contractions, they were happening every 3 minutes and lasted for more than a minute each and hurt pretty bad, I remembered that with Leo, I had horrible contractions for over and hour and made little progress, but then once my water broke, I was ready to push within the next twenty minutes… naturally I was getting just a little bit worried… everyone always laughs at the thought of people driving like maniacs to the hospital and a woman is huffing and puffing and screaming she will give birth right in the car… but I was worried it would be us for a moment there, I think Cass was too, but we both were trying to keep a straight face and not say it out loud… we kept doing what we do best when stressed out, joking about this whole ordeal etc…. the drive felt like one of the longest and shortest at the same time on this exact part of the highway, funny enough I knew exactly every turn and every exit as it was my route to work every single day, it felt so quick yet like the time stood still, it was from one painful contraction to the next one, from one exit to the next, five more exits more and maybe three more contractions… I was doing my best to stay calm and breath and not get too scared or paralyzed… I was focusing on the excitement that I had a breakthrough and I won’t have to force my body tomorrow to keep trying… I was so excited and proud of it that it responded well that I think I was fine dealing with the pain and kept the fear away, a fear that would always paralyze me so much in my other labors.<span class="Apple-converted-space">&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gUisVciBeNo/XNhZblx5k6I/AAAAAAAACOU/D2uX12YvM8Qf-qOZlOteKUQDnVJjmXylgCEwYBhgL/s1600/63CA219C-A194-4B7A-A79D-A17023C4F8E9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gUisVciBeNo/XNhZblx5k6I/AAAAAAAACOU/D2uX12YvM8Qf-qOZlOteKUQDnVJjmXylgCEwYBhgL/s320/63CA219C-A194-4B7A-A79D-A17023C4F8E9.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R4xaLBVfeNc/XNhZbtOMrfI/AAAAAAAACOY/a4AsZgMwX0g7roW1vP_CGkd8JHJGRd1qgCEwYBhgL/s1600/00764030-DB12-4C65-B7B3-6642F110E0EE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R4xaLBVfeNc/XNhZbtOMrfI/AAAAAAAACOY/a4AsZgMwX0g7roW1vP_CGkd8JHJGRd1qgCEwYBhgL/s320/00764030-DB12-4C65-B7B3-6642F110E0EE.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cBgDvLlJndA/XNhZcXCAmNI/AAAAAAAACOQ/Q15SWIK7WPsFwIDDvdOxhLIVdj673gNuQCEwYBhgL/s1600/Facetune_10-05-2019-22-09-43.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cBgDvLlJndA/XNhZcXCAmNI/AAAAAAAACOQ/Q15SWIK7WPsFwIDDvdOxhLIVdj673gNuQCEwYBhgL/s320/Facetune_10-05-2019-22-09-43.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">When we got to the hospital, we parked what we thought was the closest spot to the entrance, I didn't want Cass to drop me off and park the car, I needed him by my side, so i said i would walk with him from the parking spot. When we got to the door, the sign said that the entrance was closed for the night and the only one open was by ER in the other building behind the one we were in. I was getting really uncomfortable and each contraction was in its full force, they were back, I knew how they feel, the bone-crushing, gut-wrenching, insides-bursting kind of pain, it was burning fire through my entire uterus and hips and back. I walked like an old lady, small steps, leaking water and stopping every two minutes to breath through a contraction, it took us about three contractions to make it to the right entrance, some people leaving the hospital passed us sort of staring at me squeezing my husband and stopping every few steps, wearing my white bathroom towel and cowboy boots…but then they just kept on walking, I guess scenes like that are normal around a hospital at night… once I got to the ER entrance, the nice lady upfront didn't even ask questions, she said we have a “Labor and Delivery one, get the wheelchair!!!” she looked at me and said “hold on sweetie, we will get you upstairs, don't have this baby here”, I told her I promise I would not, she pushed me into the elevator and we got upstairs. Flashing lights, a bunch of people in and out of elevator, long corridors, electric doors, everyone sort of looking at me if I am having a baby right that moment or not, all felt so surreal and out of body, i almost felt cool, like in some comedy sitcom or something, arriving at the labor and delivery check-in in style, in a towel, boots and a giant teddy coat. I even joked about it to the nurses as they rushed me into a room and said they would finishing the admission process there. I don't even remember getting on the bed and undressing, by then I was in so much pain I couldn't think straight, the contractions were longer than the breaks between them and they were unbearable, I kept dripping water everywhere and felt like I am peeing my pants each time, they took off my underwear and took my towel away, i asked to be checked by the doctor cause I don't know how much longer I could take that pain without any pain relief. They said the doctor was finishing a delivery, but there was a midwife from my practice that I have never met on call and she could come and check me, I had really high hopes then, I was like,”if i am at 8-9 cm, I will say no drugs, I must be at least at 7 cause it hurts like hell, just as much as it did with Leo when I was at 7 and then almost to 10 when they were setting up mu epidural, I knew that high progress pain, I have done it before”… I was so certain I was getting really close…. when the midwife came, she was all friendly and chatty and calling me sweetie and acting like I shouldn't be acting so uncomfortable cause… “I was a solid… 4”…FOUR!!!!????????…… I was so angry! a solid four!? four!? was she kidding me, someone must be pranking me or I am myself a sad joke, cause this is impossible to be in this much pain and not even make it to any respectable centimeter!!! I thought she was patronizing me with her “solid four”, “solid”, what was it, am I a toddler to get rewarding adjectives? thanks a lot! Anyhow, I was disappointed and broken and angry and defeated and disappointed and “here we go again, thanks a lot for nothing body”, I felt sad that I just cannot overcome this, this mountain of pain and yet my body lagging behind trying to torture me with it for hours, so much for unproductive contractions doing nothing but hurting me…. hurting my confidence, my ability to feel like I got this… every contraction was like an avalanche of pain, the two minute long pain marathon… it was getting impossible for me to lay on the table, the room felt hot and stuffy and lights too bright, the nurses were running around me not sure what to do with me, cause the midwife just told them I am a four, so why was I acting that way, I guess they might have thought I was a wimp, a baby who cannot handle a slight contraction… I mean I would….I didn't understand why it hurt so bad, why it felt so grande at a mere four centimeters???… one of the nurses said she would put an IV to get some mineral salt to ease the contractions, they would need the catheter in anyway for the epidural that i angrily requested… to get it in, she kept poking one arm, then the other but couldn’t quite get<span class="Apple-converted-space">&nbsp; </span>it in, cause I was tensing up every minute or so for yet another super strong and painful four-centimeter contraction. I think she tried at least four times in each arm, before it finally got in there, I felt so uncomfortable and wanted to move, or get off the table but with all the tubes they were trying to hook me on and leaking water every two minutes, I felt like an animal on a leash, just tossing on the bed, trying not to scream from pain…. just holding my breath and sweating to death… the OB finally came in, I asked about the anesthesiologist who was supposedly on its way, the same OB who earlier said I wasn't in labor and sent me home, checked my cervix and said that I made some progress and I am at a 6…. so….. now a SIX, but still A six!! it was definitely soul crushing every time they gave me these numbers, like a failed test you find out you did even worse on, I knew there was no way I could endure that pain much longer so I asked for an epidural again. At that point, I don't know how much time was passing from one thing to the other, cause everything was hurting and there was no breaks between my contractions. I remember sitting up a little on the table to look around the room, it was filled with people coming in and going, they called in for NCIU to come in and check in as the baby with meconium in water was supposed to be handled with extra precautions. There was a different labor procedure, in case the baby inhales a bit of water while coming out. When they admitted me 20 minutes prior, they thought the baby would be there soon, so they alerted the NICU, but my cervix laughed at all this commotion and said “not so fast everyone, calm the off down”, so they came and went and it seemed like everyone was just waiting around not knowing what to do… then suddenly another big contraction hit and it tensed my stomach in a way I never felt before, or maybe as if I had bad stomach issues, I felt like I need to release the rest of that water, like I just need to give into this bursting from within pressure… a bunch more water gushed out and I felt this weird sensation of needing to move things out of my body. I think I said that I had no idea what is happening to me, that my body is pushing out things and it is going to be even more messy… I felt like I would pee and poo my pants at the same time and I wanted to get off the table to get to the toilet.. I started getting up cause I wanted some relief and peace to collect myself from this bothersome leaking in pain on the table, I felt like in the bathroom I could get my body back in some control… but they held me down and I remember the nurse saying, “no stay on here, it is your baby!”… the room got busy again and I heard voices saying “she wanted an epidural, it is too late, the baby is coming out”, “should we wait for him? what should we do?”… the doc was confused too, I don't remember what he said exactly, but I remember people saying something like “we can get this baby out right now”. Everyone waited for someone to finally say lets get it done, it seemed like they all wanted my confirmation too, I think I noted that I think we should just get it done, maybe I sad it too, not sure, all I knew was I couldn't be like that much longer, I either had to push or get off the table, maybe go to the bathroom cause I couldn't control that feeling… from then on, I am not sure what was happening around me, I think for two more contractions I was to hold still and not push, which was actually pretty hard… I had this pressing need to use a bathroom but I had to hold it in, weirdest feeling ever… I was never in this part of labor before, I didn't know how exactly all this feels “live”, at this point before I always had an epidural, so this moment was always behind the curtain of drugs. I could feel things before, but more like on mute, las if all was separated from me, filtered, to make it just enough to know what is happening, but not enough to fully participate in it…. and this… this was unedited, unscripted, it was a full blown strength of my body wanting to do its thing despite every single statement made about its progress fifteen minutes ago. It was such a weird sensation, like it was trying full force to prove everyone wrong. The room was filled with muttered voices, some commotion, I couldn't fully register who was in, who was out and what is happening, the light of the lamp straight above me was beaming too bright, I couldn't focus on anything. I had only one thought in my head.. “I can do this, I am doing this, let’s get this finished”…. Another contraction hit and yet again I think I said something that I think I need to push, the nurse told me not to, to try not to push because they are not ready, at this point the pain eased up a bit but the feeling was equally unbearable with its forceful strength. It was some sort of full-on cosmic force to bare and … finally, I saw a doctor in his plastic spacesuit and mask hover over me and some extra nurses and possibly some other people gathering around and I was finally allowed to push at the next contraction. I remember the nurse asking me “so what do I remember about pushing?”, I muttered that I remember being really good at it in the past…(but in my head I was already doubting in myself that I have no clue since I have never done it without drugs…), by then the contraction was almost over and I pushed just a little… And then another contraction hit not even 20 seconds later giving me another green light to push full force, at this point I cannot talk about my actions or thoughts in any other way than the one of telling a dream… I think, I was just following what my body was doing, giving in, not thinking but doing, submitting to the intuition, trusting in my own biology, trusting the process, since the cosmic energy was doing this thing for thousands of years…. i remember hearing that I am doing great and the baby is almost out, everything was way more uncomfortable and painful but at that point I was in some other dimension, almost like I could see myself on that table under that giant medical lamp and whisper to my ear that one more push and it will be all over. So I pushed and then pushed over that push…the voices around me were getting more encouraging and higher pitched, everyone was cheering and saying that IT was almost done, I really wanted IT to be over too... I lifted my head because the doctor said he needed my leg moved - it was in the way, i wanted to move it, but couldn’t, it was all clenched with the muscle spasms and pain, I didn't rally control it nor felt it, i had no mental capacity to relax and move it myself. I think finally Cass grabbed it and yanked it sideways, everyone yelled for one more final “push!” I haven't made a noise up to that point… this whole time I was more concerned with my appearance of not being overly dramatic or not disturb anyone with my whines, “cause God forbid, what would they think of me”… (especially if they told me I was at 4cm), but for this one, I couldn't hold it in and released a long, raspy moan, i couldn't control it, I couldn't hold it in any longer, the intensity of the moment and pain gathered inside of me, moved up my chest and came out of my mouth by itself, after that… everything went quiet, and pitch black for a second. I had this weird visualization in my head, that all images folded themselves into a little hole and disappeared into nothingness, everything was still for what felt like a while, but most likely was just a nanosecond…it was the closest I think I will ever get to some sort of spiritual out of body experience, it felt like for a moment there I have gone to another universe, I was there but not, it was the most intense<span class="Apple-converted-space">&nbsp; </span>pain yet most out of body experience of the whole process, I could feel it but also couldn't… Then slowly the exact same hole opened and filled with lights, i opened my eyes and saw that giant lamp again and then… I saw HER…. there she was, she was here, we made it, it was over, she was the sweetest sight, my most hairy baby hovering over me, she was a good size, I quickly glanced over all her features, with the most primal instinct checking her legs, hands, face, and she was crying, crying loudly and furiously, that was my girl, my brave girl giving us a loud reassurance that there was nothing to worry about, her crying was a great sign, it meant she didn't inhale any water on the way out and was quickly clearing her lungs from anything that could be trapped inside. I think there was some delay in her being put on me because someone from NICU had to take a peek too, but I couldn't recollect what was really going on. I saw her and everyone else was moving in slow motion, all blended into one human blur.<span class="Apple-converted-space">&nbsp; </span>She kept going, she sounded strong and angry, so they put her down on me, I was just able to catch my breath when her warmth laid on me and i felt this amazing, one of a kind sensation, having a part of my body returned back to me immediately after loosing it, yet again…. it is such an incredible moment, that we get to experience just after birth, it is truly like, loosing a limp and then feeling it back,<span class="Apple-converted-space">&nbsp; </span>but in a different form, like all her little movements, how she felt were still all so familiar, but also already so different from the outside. I could feel her warmth that she got from inside of me, now warming up my cold and rough skin of my body outside. That skin to skin moment is truly the final manifestation of the incredible transition we witness in birth, a body living within, with its warmth and softness touching the body it knew all along - but now from the other side, the side that is much more rugged. It is the moment when the two familiar with each bodies are gently preparing each other for what is to come.. that next level of existence, like a tender goodbye, a send-off for us both...&nbsp; I feel the last moments of unity with her, and she feels what is going to be her new reality… and then we are apart. I will sure miss that metaphysical aspect of birth.<span class="Apple-converted-space">&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OUyoKqSqebQ/XNhZdKTSclI/AAAAAAAACOY/ugHjv0YVZWsf6xMjWM9P2x0dVdGjqef2ACEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_1842.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OUyoKqSqebQ/XNhZdKTSclI/AAAAAAAACOY/ugHjv0YVZWsf6xMjWM9P2x0dVdGjqef2ACEwYBhgL/s320/IMG_1842.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G80ymHnvhCs/XNhZcgHHHSI/AAAAAAAACOQ/5hP7Uq2puN0Iqq27kC8puR1ZMkY4VCaWACEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_1835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G80ymHnvhCs/XNhZcgHHHSI/AAAAAAAACOQ/5hP7Uq2puN0Iqq27kC8puR1ZMkY4VCaWACEwYBhgL/s320/IMG_1835.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ns_n0YhHTUg/XNhZcgAcnJI/AAAAAAAACOU/2TZRVaXnIF8g4l6rrq8-wct5eknz9fEwACEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_1832.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1202" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ns_n0YhHTUg/XNhZcgAcnJI/AAAAAAAACOU/2TZRVaXnIF8g4l6rrq8-wct5eknz9fEwACEwYBhgL/s320/IMG_1832.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br /></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">When I looked into one of her opened eyes, she had this intelligence about her that I think babies during birth gain specifically for that moment, she looked around, scanning the surroundings, then she rooted on my chest and latched on the breast, I am always amazed how much they can move to find their first source of nourishment and tranquility… she calmed down and nursed… and it was calm everywhere, the moment was here, the “it is done” moment, “it is over” moment, this was it, a moment of victory, of triumph, of bottomless happiness, i have arrived, yet again to the fountain of love and serenity… I was there before… I felt a strong connection to the moments just like that in my “past”, unique in their transcend nature, yet all the same, it was “me”s birthing a soul into this world and making that soul mine. I thought of other times, I got to experience this miracle and that thought united all flooding emotions into what we have created over the years, our family. In moments like this, time is no longer relevant, our essence can be in other dimensions, simultaneously, so all my motherhood energy<span class="Apple-converted-space">&nbsp; </span>bursted into a tie-in with my born souls welcoming this one, the brand new one and hugged me and her altogether with the rest of them. Birth is one of the exceptions in motherhood when logic does not apply, nor reason, it is excluded from the laws of physics, there is no brain facts here, only feelings. And they flood you so much, your heart bursts in seams.</span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1"><br /></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Speaking of brain facts, gosh brain, MY BRAIN… as if it always speaks the truth, but does it? our brain wouldn't lie to us? would it?… we tend to trust everything it says, sometimes mine says so many cruel and horrible things, especially about myself, my body and its abilities,yet I continue to listen to it, yet I never trust my body, I know my body isn't perfect, that it didn't always deliver on what I hoped it to do, but the rules were always dictated by my brain, and my body was always trying to just do its best, never tried to hurt “me”, never tried to do anything other than what it can. My body never lied to me, but my brain did, many times. And yet, it always gets priority, the brain tells me what my body is and what it can do, a lot of times unfairly, angrily, putting it down as if it was my enemy, or my brain/s enemy. But this time, my brain lost and my body won, in its imperfect ability, it pulled through and delivered for me, with a little nudge, it finally helped me and instead of an agonizing track of a labor, it finally took care of business and I mean business in less than an hour! I was so proud of it, maybe for the first time in my entire adult life, I felt like it proved everyone wrong, nobody believed in it, but it didn't matter.</span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1"><br /></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">If having Zoe were to teach me nothing else, I already received the greatest lesson of all, to trust my body more, accept its limits, shut down my brain more often and hope that maybe my body can still surprise me, and most definitely serve me well…</span></div><br />Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-7596398718488329102016-11-28T16:55:00.003-08:002016-11-28T17:06:32.149-08:00Getting back<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6b1E3bBVh1s/WDzENpeBZSI/AAAAAAAAB1Q/GTT-vWUdqXU/s640/blogger-image--2081615025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6b1E3bBVh1s/WDzENpeBZSI/AAAAAAAAB1Q/GTT-vWUdqXU/s640/blogger-image--2081615025.jpg" /></a><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><br />Before I sat down to type this post, I have been writing it in my head for months now, maybe even for years… Quite possibly I might have started it, the moment I left my old office right before giving birth to Simon… After that day, December 30th, I have never returned to the office again, for four years, I kept working for another two years, but mostly from home… but now I am going back to work, full time, not from home as I did manage in the past, but back to an actual office, to an office life, to daily commute etc. It scares me but it also makes me excited.<br /><a name='more'></a>I am coming back, after kids, I am coming back as a changed woman, and a changed employee, it is not the same girl that left the office life, for sure not, but I feel like she still is in me, and she needs her time back. I have to give her a chance to see if she can or wants to keep chasing her dreams, her ambitions, her ideas. She did make me go through graduate school twice pregnant, had me started an MBA pregnant and finished also pregnant. So after all, she is driven and wants to go out there, and I am letting her out.<br /><br />My other me, the domesticated one, the one with all the other feelings is panicking right now, she is torn and scared and lost. She wonders will it ever feel normal not to be with her kids, her heart breaks thinking she has to take her baby to daycare for 8 hours a day, she is so damn worried about him, about every little thing, about him needing his post nap hug, about his ways of seeking comfort when he gets scared, he is still so tiny and innocent, he knows nothing else but HER. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-z9cILe2Lofw/WDzELRI-f6I/AAAAAAAAB1E/mOBIl103uOY/s640/blogger-image--2123480252.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-z9cILe2Lofw/WDzELRI-f6I/AAAAAAAAB1E/mOBIl103uOY/s640/blogger-image--2123480252.jpg" /></a></div><br />So here is a conflict, a conflict that is playing out in my head for a while now, it is quite tormenting and exhausting, being excited but also so damn scared.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-j0_1HE1_JdU/WDzEMDI2uUI/AAAAAAAAB1I/MnCLw79Eobs/s640/blogger-image-1705245044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-j0_1HE1_JdU/WDzEMDI2uUI/AAAAAAAAB1I/MnCLw79Eobs/s640/blogger-image-1705245044.jpg" /></a></div><br />But I know I cannot make a decision without trying first, I cannot give up before I start, I have to try to make it work and find out if it is really going to work. <br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-46xEclJm1G8/WDzEM4TWP1I/AAAAAAAAB1M/GZ20aWjiyLo/s640/blogger-image--749836333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-46xEclJm1G8/WDzEM4TWP1I/AAAAAAAAB1M/GZ20aWjiyLo/s1600/blogger-image--749836333.jpg" /></a><br /><br />I have been so lonely lately, so confined to the four walls of my home, the car and a nearby park that I think I lost a part of myself somewhere. That spark that lets me believe I can do so much out there in the world, that I still can. I forgot the world is so busy and big and will take me back. I need it, I need human interaction and being a part of a team… and I can only hope my babies will be just fine.<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-xijnl99bHrM/WDzG8-7M2wI/AAAAAAAAB1Y/F9y2SWMdZ2A/s640/blogger-image-604236916.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-xijnl99bHrM/WDzG8-7M2wI/AAAAAAAAB1Y/F9y2SWMdZ2A/s1600/blogger-image-604236916.jpg" /></a><br /><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div><br /><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-61642805105692608412016-11-14T11:20:00.000-08:002016-11-28T16:58:42.170-08:00Holiday Pictures. Deconstructed.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-S0b4e6i8ubg/WCdCh1_bAkI/AAAAAAAABzA/2UY8wAxK23s/s640/blogger-image-1752260964.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-S0b4e6i8ubg/WCdCh1_bAkI/AAAAAAAABzA/2UY8wAxK23s/s640/blogger-image-1752260964.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OMWP4fcpx3g/WCdCjJxLLgI/AAAAAAAABzI/lJuSksLuXnc/s640/blogger-image-165343881.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OMWP4fcpx3g/WCdCjJxLLgI/AAAAAAAABzI/lJuSksLuXnc/s640/blogger-image-165343881.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UDZrgBHCdXI/WCdCkQpXFnI/AAAAAAAABzQ/mWYUmQNUKtw/s640/blogger-image-607504201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UDZrgBHCdXI/WCdCkQpXFnI/AAAAAAAABzQ/mWYUmQNUKtw/s640/blogger-image-607504201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-o1GwWAMEFKQ/WCdCkzKZVHI/AAAAAAAABzU/2tOnvb8uQ8E/s640/blogger-image--288591816.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-o1GwWAMEFKQ/WCdCkzKZVHI/AAAAAAAABzU/2tOnvb8uQ8E/s640/blogger-image--288591816.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Sd2vj3yETYc/WCdChdTDvWI/AAAAAAAABy8/PFpYjjOxqUA/s640/blogger-image-1017866027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Sd2vj3yETYc/WCdChdTDvWI/AAAAAAAABy8/PFpYjjOxqUA/s640/blogger-image-1017866027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t_kbwOM8KJc/WCdCiYO9mAI/AAAAAAAABzE/zKxLVB3bKy4/s640/blogger-image-1962639153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sxhG2IttjEM/WCdCjnrgGRI/AAAAAAAABzM/AjH7oSHmHIQ/s640/blogger-image-284035270.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sxhG2IttjEM/WCdCjnrgGRI/AAAAAAAABzM/AjH7oSHmHIQ/s400/blogger-image-284035270.jpg" width="264" /></a><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t_kbwOM8KJc/WCdCiYO9mAI/AAAAAAAABzE/zKxLVB3bKy4/s400/blogger-image-1962639153.jpg" width="300" /></div><br />You know Instagram? Yes, that app, where you spend hours looking at everyone's perfect images and wonder "how the heck did they manage to get them, did they hire a whole team of photographers or an entire special lighting crew? hair and makeup?" yeah that app... I know, because I often times wonder that very same thing. I am almost certain nobody thinks of my pictures in quite the superlatives, but I try my best there too, it is true for everyone, I think, we all put our best online, on Instagram, on Facebook, whichever, we do want to put the best picture to represent us well, I belive this is a quite natural instinct.<br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Sd2vj3yETYc/WCdChdTDvWI/AAAAAAAABy8/PFpYjjOxqUA/s1600/blogger-image-1017866027.jpg" /><br /><br />By all means, I am no picture expert, nor do I know much about photography, but since the season when we want to take the best family snaps is upon us, I thought it would be fun to discuss what works for me and what doesn't while family picture taking. Probably there is more of what doesn'ts, &nbsp;because taking a pic with two littles is never an easy task, and a lot of things don't work, but still I will try my best.<br /><br /><br /><a name='more'></a><br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-o1GwWAMEFKQ/WCdCkzKZVHI/AAAAAAAABzU/2tOnvb8uQ8E/s640/blogger-image--288591816.jpg" /><br /><br />The rule of thumb is, if you take a gazzilion shots, force yourself and everyone involved to keep trying, eventually you will get one decent photo! ha! yes, no matter what! Thus, I guess, perseverance and a large memory card are the key here...<br /><br /><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-S0b4e6i8ubg/WCdCh1_bAkI/AAAAAAAABzA/2UY8wAxK23s/s640/blogger-image-1752260964.jpg" width="480" /><br /><br />When we take any of our pics with the boys, we usually try posing, but each time and very quickly, it proves to be a pointless attempt, so the rule number one is, embrace the chaos and the more natural movement. The "one" will happen no matter what and sometimes these crazy moments of everyone moving will actually look good frozen on camera.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jTBQbBRT8DI/WCkUeg0vheI/AAAAAAAAB0M/n2MOY_DIdp0/s640/blogger-image--1920941022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jTBQbBRT8DI/WCkUeg0vheI/AAAAAAAAB0M/n2MOY_DIdp0/s640/blogger-image--1920941022.jpg" /></a></div><br />We usually try to look for a location outside and then try something indoors as well. When outside, we want either an interesting background shot or a solid pattern (city skyline, intricate building, or a captivating wall or door). I stick with the bright colors, because it is my personal preference, but I have seen plenty of amazing shots with moody and dark backgrounds that I loved, so it depends on one's personal esthetics.<br /><div class="separator"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RT0X9d3J7SU/WCkUxvc0waI/AAAAAAAAB0Q/zPe3-ZP0sFo/s640/blogger-image--1189852137.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RT0X9d3J7SU/WCkUxvc0waI/AAAAAAAAB0Q/zPe3-ZP0sFo/s640/blogger-image--1189852137.jpg" /></a></div><br />When it comes to choosing the outfits, I won't lie... I love twinning, I am obsessed with twinning, I restrain myself from overdoing the twinning. And it is a fine balance, you should not go rogue, &nbsp;it quickly can be an overkill... Thus, I try to have some items that go together well, a few pieces for the boys that are the same and then accessorize them differently. Also, when it comes to choosing my outfit, I try to correspond with them, but not always match them exactly, super exact twinning is fun for a more styled photo, but for a natural look and a spirited holiday snap, I think what I described works better. <br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UDZrgBHCdXI/WCdCkQpXFnI/AAAAAAAABzQ/mWYUmQNUKtw/s1600/blogger-image-607504201.jpg" /><br /><br />Finally, adding an accessory or visuals that bring the holidays into the photo, that "holidays look and feel". If one starts early on going full speed with a Christmas tree may be an overkill again, I would say try something more subtle first... this can be done via colors and fabrics. I love that plaid and cozy cardigans, fur, hats and scarves instantly bring on the Holidays, scream cozy and warm yet are not too cheesy or obvious. Also the colors, RED RED RED, like the Starbucks cup, all you have to do to bring the Holidays to the table, is use red wisely.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zLN47ANDMa0/WCpMbCGAKPI/AAAAAAAAB0o/7IHnY-OJ4p0/s640/blogger-image--1819711296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zLN47ANDMa0/WCpMbCGAKPI/AAAAAAAAB0o/7IHnY-OJ4p0/s640/blogger-image--1819711296.jpg" /></a></div><br />This year we decided to go oldtimish with the boys', something to bring a little 40s, a little 50s. &nbsp;Thus lumberjack hats, buffalo plaid, fur and sherpa lined everything. I was so excited to have found the perfect items at <a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday?navID=header" target="_blank">OshkoshBgosh</a>, the red plaid was a hit, absolutely perfect for the holidays. I decided to have Simon in a lumberjack jacket and Leo in the lumberjack hat, for good measure. I found the cutest duck boots for Leo that were sherpa lined and completed the look with chunky, cozy cardigans in similar colors. I went with fur myself and a cozy, chunky knit hat.<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-lmYSyteXA40/WCkVOs4bxVI/AAAAAAAAB0U/biQZm-CLexs/s640/blogger-image--892830181.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-lmYSyteXA40/WCkVOs4bxVI/AAAAAAAAB0U/biQZm-CLexs/s640/blogger-image--892830181.jpg" /></a><br /><br />We probably took a million pictures, at various locations, and the whole time, Leo was flipping out and I mean literally... he was going boneless left and right as he entered the joyous stage when he manipulates his body into letting him down so he can wander away. I guess he is too busy searching for sticks and &nbsp;stones and will take no BS for some picture taking. Simon was pretty whiny too, made some weird faces and generally was trying to goof around more than act natural, but then again, I guess he acts like that naturally too so... you get what you get.<br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OMWP4fcpx3g/WCdCjJxLLgI/AAAAAAAABzI/lJuSksLuXnc/s1600/blogger-image-165343881.jpg" /><br /><br />And it is okay, because it is this time of our lives, when the family outings are chaotic, when there are lovely moments but mostly surrounded by frustrating, baby flipping times. so here is when your billion outtakes come to place... just keep shooting and that one special moment, amongst the chaos, among the craziness will get caught...and here you will have the perfect square, the framer, the one for the memory books. The picture that perfectly captures the memories, because yo will know it was occupied by literally blood sweat and tears :) the sign of the times, the times you WILL want to remember forever.<br /><br />Happy holiday picture taking!<br /><br />Oshkosh always offers unbelievable savings, but you may use this coupon code <b>OKBG3223</b>&nbsp;on top of all the sales, Simon's coat was only $22 after the discounts! (retail code 036108)<br /><br /><i>This post is sponsored by OshKosh B’Gosh; however, all thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.</i><br /><br />On Leo<br /><a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday/V_OB11549310.html?dwvar_V__OB11549310_size=0-3M&amp;cgid=oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday&amp;dwvar_V__OB11549310_color=Color#navID=header&amp;start=17&amp;cgid=oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday" target="_blank">cardigan&nbsp;</a>// <a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday/VC_OB11477813.html?cgid=oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday&amp;dwvar_VC__OB11477813_color=Charcoal&amp;dwvar_VC__OB11477813_size=12M#navID=header&amp;start=34&amp;cgid=oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday" target="_blank">longsleeve</a> // <a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday/V_11658910.html?dwvar_V__11658910_size=1224&amp;cgid=oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday&amp;dwvar_V__11658910_color=Color#navID=header&amp;start=55&amp;cgid=oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday" target="_blank">hat</a>&nbsp;// <a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday/V_OF160490.html?dwvar_V__OF160490_size=10&amp;cgid=oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday&amp;dwvar_V__OF160490_color=Color#navID=header&amp;start=71&amp;cgid=oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday" target="_blank">boots</a><br /><br />On Simon<br /><a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday/V_OB11381310.html?cgid=oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday&amp;dwvar_V__OB11381310_size=12M&amp;dwvar_V__OB11381310_color=Color#navID=header&amp;start=38&amp;cgid=oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday" target="_blank">jeans</a> // <a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday/V_OB11368310.html?dwvar_V__OB11368310_color=Color&amp;cgid=oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday&amp;dwvar_V__OB11368310_size=12M#navID=header&amp;start=44&amp;cgid=oshkosh-baby-boy-holiday" target="_blank">jacket </a>// <a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/oshkosh-kid-boy-accessories/VM_41661310.html?cgid=oshkosh-kid-boy-accessories&amp;dwvar_VM__41661310_color=Color&amp;dwvar_VM__41661310_size=8-14#navID=header&amp;start=38&amp;cgid=oshkosh-kid-boy-accessories" target="_blank">hat</a><br /><br />Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com3Boston, MA, USA42.3600825 -71.0588801000000142.1722125 -71.3816036 42.547952499999994 -70.736156600000015tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-51760206303551097262016-10-20T19:03:00.000-07:002016-11-03T08:47:28.994-07:00Fall Nostalgia<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-lkrxvgX6Vdk/WAJfCmXQPwI/AAAAAAAABmA/Udl-BF1YgrM/s640/blogger-image-457705599.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-lkrxvgX6Vdk/WAJfCmXQPwI/AAAAAAAABmA/Udl-BF1YgrM/s640/blogger-image-457705599.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-YUBV9dlD1ro/WAJfDQ1_-8I/AAAAAAAABmE/AeJM1fUnQKM/s640/blogger-image-2116206128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-YUBV9dlD1ro/WAJfDQ1_-8I/AAAAAAAABmE/AeJM1fUnQKM/s640/blogger-image-2116206128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1Yk_R_4h-xw/WAJfEQZ9FEI/AAAAAAAABmM/q5AmwtUkxQA/s640/blogger-image-918101631.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1Yk_R_4h-xw/WAJfEQZ9FEI/AAAAAAAABmM/q5AmwtUkxQA/s640/blogger-image-918101631.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MlSx1koXHNs/WAJfFjmBw9I/AAAAAAAABmU/uSHW-pDY7K0/s640/blogger-image-168129651.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MlSx1koXHNs/WAJfFjmBw9I/AAAAAAAABmU/uSHW-pDY7K0/s640/blogger-image-168129651.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-28caMBvVWdw/WAJfE0l6bWI/AAAAAAAABmQ/w4VXqAHf2rI/s640/blogger-image-213752268.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Ck8zeOnguys/WAJfGv8H9KI/AAAAAAAABmc/xJRclHfOdH4/s640/blogger-image--1420095674.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Ck8zeOnguys/WAJfGv8H9KI/AAAAAAAABmc/xJRclHfOdH4/s640/blogger-image--1420095674.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kmwzMBW9XNc/WAJfGLmVeMI/AAAAAAAABmY/uDpTG0tEqds/s640/blogger-image-386970689.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kmwzMBW9XNc/WAJfGLmVeMI/AAAAAAAABmY/uDpTG0tEqds/s640/blogger-image-386970689.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SUGRQPZH038/WAJfD9DaMaI/AAAAAAAABmI/mraQUOqDOs8/s640/blogger-image-30349080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SUGRQPZH038/WAJfD9DaMaI/AAAAAAAABmI/mraQUOqDOs8/s640/blogger-image-30349080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Ck8zeOnguys/WAJfGv8H9KI/AAAAAAAABmc/xJRclHfOdH4/s400/blogger-image--1420095674.jpg" width="300" /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-28caMBvVWdw/WAJfE0l6bWI/AAAAAAAABmQ/w4VXqAHf2rI/s400/blogger-image-213752268.jpg" width="300" /></div><br /><br />And here it is, Miss Fall, invited herself over after her friend, dear September unrolled its colorful glory. It brought the crispy air in the mornings and evenings, leaving it nice and toasty in between. The warming hues are starting to peek between the fading greenery, seasons are turning and I cannot believe it happened all this fast and I am here again, in September.<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-bRcGbcKMGeI/WAgvBMDof-I/AAAAAAAABnM/Q5Ki1hZKvMw/s640/blogger-image--1558359038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-bRcGbcKMGeI/WAgvBMDof-I/AAAAAAAABnM/Q5Ki1hZKvMw/s400/blogger-image--1558359038.jpg" width="300" /></a><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-K4IQN5xI_Go/WAgvAqKXp-I/AAAAAAAABnI/pgGLrodKS4c/s400/blogger-image--1333281430.jpg" width="263" /><br /><br /><a name='more'></a><br /><br /><br /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-YUBV9dlD1ro/WAJfDQ1_-8I/AAAAAAAABmE/AeJM1fUnQKM/s400/blogger-image-2116206128.jpg" width="300" /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-lkrxvgX6Vdk/WAJfCmXQPwI/AAAAAAAABmA/Udl-BF1YgrM/s400/blogger-image-457705599.jpg" width="345" /><br /><br />Let me tell you some things about September... It is a month that I dreaded as a child, it meant back to school, it meant end of summer and freedom, end of long evenings with cousins and friends, it meant the end of bare feet and dresses. A bit older and wiser, I actually started appreciating September more, maybe not as much as it deserved but way more than before. I loved the weather when September brew it just right, warm but not hot, fresh and aromatic. It is actually silly to think and even sillier to say and just about the silliest to type but September has such a distinctive smell, of something just so ripe and ready and crisp… now that I am thinking about it, if September were a fruit, it would probably be an apple, duh...<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-IC0s--sLde4/WAJiqSGJkwI/AAAAAAAABmo/EAE-AA9mio8/s640/blogger-image-735137760.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-IC0s--sLde4/WAJiqSGJkwI/AAAAAAAABmo/EAE-AA9mio8/s640/blogger-image-735137760.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1Yk_R_4h-xw/WAJfEQZ9FEI/AAAAAAAABmM/q5AmwtUkxQA/s640/blogger-image-918101631.jpg" /><br /><br />Right now it is so pleasant to be outside and pretty much from dusk till dawn. It is so easy to embrace the cooler, shorter evenings in all their coziness, this type of coziness when you want to grab your cutest mug of tea and snuggle up with it... <br /><br /><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kmwzMBW9XNc/WAJfGLmVeMI/AAAAAAAABmY/uDpTG0tEqds/s640/blogger-image-386970689.jpg" width="480" /><br /><br />And now... How do I feel about September? Well I fell in love with it, mostly in Chicago fall of 2015…<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-i0mx4FdyIbI/WAgr5aDpQ6I/AAAAAAAABm8/xV_WiSaUmjA/s640/blogger-image-1058159968.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-i0mx4FdyIbI/WAgr5aDpQ6I/AAAAAAAABm8/xV_WiSaUmjA/s640/blogger-image-1058159968.jpg" width="480" /></a><br /><br />That city always knew how to do Septembers, they were always gorgeous, like one big pre-apology from the city to its citizens for what it is going to do to them in the winter. And to top it off, it brought the me the most perfect September of all, the one last year. <br /><br /><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MlSx1koXHNs/WAJfFjmBw9I/AAAAAAAABmU/uSHW-pDY7K0/s640/blogger-image-168129651.jpg" width="461" /><br /><br />Leo was born right in the middle of it, two weeks in, two weeks out. &nbsp;And it was the most incredible background for the events that unfolded. Events that are written in my soul forever and now that I am trying to describe them, to put all that emotional pulp into this post, I cannot fully fork it out of there. But I know one thing, for sure, I will forever be grateful to Chicago for giving me such a stage for that story. <br /><br />I will forever remember those warm autumn days, the brisk air and the golden light, oh the perfect golden hour over Chicago, I will forever remember that. I would pick Simon up from school, wearing shorts and a baby wrap with baby Leo and we would just soak up our time outside, our time in Chicago, in our new family’s dynamic. I remember so fondly being with my boys, in our city.<br /><br />Now that it is a year later, how do you go about the time that was already perfect last year, how do you move past your melancholy, and the longing for the perfectness of the fading past?<br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SUGRQPZH038/WAJfD9DaMaI/AAAAAAAABmI/mraQUOqDOs8/s640/blogger-image-30349080.jpg" /><br /><br />Well, you escape, you do things differently and make new memories. In order not to give into nostalgia, to stop trying desperately to do over the past, you just go out and do the present, and what was that thing you said Anja? do the present? how philosophical of you, but what the crap do you mean? well, I say to you, as I finally realized it this September, It means getting out of my head and stepping more into the moment, instead of dwelling over the moods and feels of the past that I love, I try to focus and find the beauty in the new realities… and boy did I find some this September. Mood and nostalgia time be gone, I have new memories to chase. <br /><br />Credits:<br />Baby carrier: <a href="http://www.tulababycarriers.com/collections/ergonomic-baby-carriers?gclid=CjwKEAjw1qHABRDU9qaXs4rtiS0SJADNzJisUMUE8Z1JZhMR0EjLE_T0vjsLrmk0zC5yQWl4IeqpVBoC0qfw_wcB&amp;gclsrc=aw.ds" target="_blank">TULABABY&nbsp;</a><br />Leo shark booties: <a href="https://www.myrobeez.com/?gclid=CjwKEAjwwOvABRC08aedoZ_lnTMSJACs_cbuu6ksHv69bmQrmPjAuQM9A_gH4QNdCsLilg6to26QYBoCrtrw_wcB" target="_blank">Robeez</a><br />Sunglasses: Deigner sunglasses for rent, free for a month with a code "ANJA_MARI"<a href="https://www.ditto.com/products/womens-sun?filters%5Border%5D=new" target="_blank"> SHOPDITTO</a>Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-77895973268005716402016-09-01T04:31:00.000-07:002016-10-15T09:54:07.911-07:00Summer moved on... Back to school is next.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t6L79eO_F0A/V8eO-X8AAJI/AAAAAAAABkA/hboE9DdUQHU/s640/blogger-image--150200636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t6L79eO_F0A/V8eO-X8AAJI/AAAAAAAABkA/hboE9DdUQHU/s640/blogger-image--150200636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9OVApwNKsWc/V8eO-__z4NI/AAAAAAAABkI/vEkFu3nDY-0/s640/blogger-image--1259155073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9OVApwNKsWc/V8eO-__z4NI/AAAAAAAABkI/vEkFu3nDY-0/s640/blogger-image--1259155073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nP4DULsVFqk/V8eO9DzR4DI/AAAAAAAABj4/YT3Dt8fR7Ow/s640/blogger-image-180155244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nP4DULsVFqk/V8eO9DzR4DI/AAAAAAAABj4/YT3Dt8fR7Ow/s640/blogger-image-180155244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-uvU811fiptg/V8eO9guFZjI/AAAAAAAABj8/HRqkggutZIU/s640/blogger-image--377265874.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-H2pC5EqJqwY/V8dtD1m8tII/AAAAAAAABjU/SLmN-DkmV-U/s640/blogger-image-970407720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-H2pC5EqJqwY/V8dtD1m8tII/AAAAAAAABjU/SLmN-DkmV-U/s640/blogger-image-970407720.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-J32aaGsrcNE/V8dkoIFOybI/AAAAAAAABjA/iqCi14fhCn0/s640/blogger-image-152395813.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-J32aaGsrcNE/V8dkoIFOybI/AAAAAAAABjA/iqCi14fhCn0/s640/blogger-image-152395813.jpg" /></a></div><br /><br />Summer moved ooooooooon... Whenever summer ends, I always have that song stuck in my head, you know the one that goes like:<br /><br />"Summer moved on and the way it goes, you can't tag along" and then "seasons can't last and there's just one thing left to ask" with this longest consonant notes in history of all A-ha songs? Or Lana's del Ray? summertime sadness...?<br /><br /><a name='more'></a><br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-VjR3zaPJN6U/V8eORAlNAvI/AAAAAAAABjw/O5zwxKA4TH4/s640/blogger-image-427282291.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-VjR3zaPJN6U/V8eORAlNAvI/AAAAAAAABjw/O5zwxKA4TH4/s640/blogger-image-427282291.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MwrcAGAHWQ0/V8dtErz2HpI/AAAAAAAABjY/bwPzfGpSqTk/s640/blogger-image-1841291897.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MwrcAGAHWQ0/V8dtErz2HpI/AAAAAAAABjY/bwPzfGpSqTk/s640/blogger-image-1841291897.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--dSPCmfUgNI/V8dtFcgEAaI/AAAAAAAABjc/-kjPkapFks0/s640/blogger-image--1590363416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--dSPCmfUgNI/V8dtFcgEAaI/AAAAAAAABjc/-kjPkapFks0/s640/blogger-image--1590363416.jpg" /></a></div><br />Either way, either song... the end of summer always has me melachnolic, and a bit sappy, and just all existential and reflective on life, but this year, I am also welcoming it with a slight sense of relief, this summer has me a bit tired and sort of longing for routine and structure to fill my days, to make me follow the clock a bit more and organize my days in some predictable pattern. I spent over a month at home with both kids, all day, every day and even though we developed routines of our own, the days started to blend into chaotic messes, that despite all the fun we had, and despite all the efforts to keep it under control, were just meant to happen. So onto the fall we go, slightly sad, slightly relived, slightly hopeful and excited about what new crispier days will bring... because it is BACK to school!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qBSAQFig8xc/V8dknrBbrqI/AAAAAAAABi8/U3BOFGKvePU/s640/blogger-image--820108815.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qBSAQFig8xc/V8dknrBbrqI/AAAAAAAABi8/U3BOFGKvePU/s640/blogger-image--820108815.jpg" /></a></div><div><br />Simon's first day ever at school was actually last year, he started pre-school back in Chicago, I was so unsure about it all, since I was due with Leo any day. I was so emotional and scared of all the changes he will have to face, each morning I was wondering if I would have to pull him out of school because of going into labor. Five days in, I gave birth to Leo, so school pick ups and drop offs for me equal tagging along both of them, getting ready with both... But oh that time last fall... so many emotions, so many... enough for another post.<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-omOxq8D0wIE/V8eOR56IqQI/AAAAAAAABj0/axsG7Wg6OzM/s640/blogger-image-1746476491.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-omOxq8D0wIE/V8eOR56IqQI/AAAAAAAABj0/axsG7Wg6OzM/s640/blogger-image-1746476491.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Anyway, Simon switched pre-school three times in one school year, which is more than enough for a little four-year old, but he did so good each time, he really is one brave little boy, it makes me the proudest. This year he is going to the same school as be finished in June, thank heavens! but his teacher will be different this semester and so will his classroom and classmates. But I am so so certain he will do just great. He did it three times now, he is a pro in new environments and that makes my heart skip a beat, cause maybe I did something right, even if giving him some adapdabilty genes or whatever, I will take it.<br /><br /></div><div><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9OVApwNKsWc/V8eO-__z4NI/AAAAAAAABkI/vEkFu3nDY-0/s640/blogger-image--1259155073.jpg" /></div><div><br />So thankfully getting ready for school should be easy... I mean, honestly mornings in our house are never "super easy" but maybe more "okay easy" nonetheless.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>I used to be a morning person when it was just me to take care of. Now with the two of them I am way worse, less organized and more sluggish, I blame sleep deprivation... But maybe I am just getting old too.<br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t6L79eO_F0A/V8eO-X8AAJI/AAAAAAAABkA/hboE9DdUQHU/s640/blogger-image--150200636.jpg" /></div><div><br />Simon and Leo usually wake up at 6:00am, on a good day at 6:30am, which technically gives us plenty of time to get ready, yet somehow it seems that we always rush. First order of business is breakfast, for everyone, otherwise everyone is hungry... and nobody wants to see us hungry... I sort of admire people who do not eat breakfast, they are like superheroes or something, I cannot function without it.<br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nP4DULsVFqk/V8eO9DzR4DI/AAAAAAAABj4/YT3Dt8fR7Ow/s640/blogger-image-180155244.jpg" /><br /><br />When breakfast is said and done we move onto getting dressed, Simon is trying to do it himself, but I still have to help him, cause.... &nbsp;I think girls catch on that part way earlier and I say that free of any sexist standards, cause they just do 😝 and I am a girl and I think it proves our superiority, if anything else, but I digress. Simon is still struggling with that part because... I mean when someone is trying to pull his underwear on by inserting two legs into one hole, it calls for an intervention, so yeah I dress him for the most part. He does have opinions, like "what color do you like the most Simon?" To which he answers "my favorite is blue stripes", nonetheless, I have to say he has a good taste.<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jocpB54F2wM/V8ePNuTLn1I/AAAAAAAABkM/tHc2GLjysnc/s640/blogger-image-512324227.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jocpB54F2wM/V8ePNuTLn1I/AAAAAAAABkM/tHc2GLjysnc/s640/blogger-image-512324227.jpg" /></a><br /><br />For his back to school September days, we chose a variety of striped basics with a mix of greys, blacks, whites (of course) and lovely deep blue hues that I have been loving lately.<br /><br />Simon fell for the softest, stripe-bountiful back to school line from&nbsp;<a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/home?id=oshkosh" target="_blank">OshKosh</a>&nbsp;and so did I. There is a variety of beautiful denim pieces, softest cotton fabrics in all our favorite monochrome colors. And I have to admit that even though I think kids should wear color color, and I still buy lots of it for my boys, their closets - just like mine - start to fill up with a good set of basics that are easy to put together, monochrome whites and greys just go together easily. And God knows we need this, when one of those mornings happen and nothing is going right... on those mornings even a four year old needs to get dressed easily. &nbsp;I mean.. -you know, what I mean - those mornings when Simon goes all contemplative on me and questions the whole purpose of wearing pants - since he already has underwear on - that is when I need to be able to persuade him into wearing some soft joggers or shorts in his favorite color, "stripes".<br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-uvU811fiptg/V8eO9guFZjI/AAAAAAAABj8/HRqkggutZIU/s640/blogger-image--377265874.jpg" /><br /><br />So without a further ado, with our copybooks open and heads ready to learn, with our days ready to be regular and organized, we are ready for you school year!!!!&nbsp;</div><div><br />Oshkosh always has some amazing deals, especially now before Labor Day, so so many sales! you can score Simon's outfit pieces for less than $20! on top of all the discounts they already have, there is another code for my readers! feel free to use <b>OKBG3136</b> for additional 25% off.<br /><br /><br /><i>This post is sponsored by OshKosh B’Gosh; however, all thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.</i><br /><br /><br /><br />Simon is wearing<br /><a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/oshkosh-baby-boy-tops/V_OB11374810.html?cgid=oshkosh-baby-boy-tops&amp;dwvar_V__OB11374810_size=12M&amp;dwvar_V__OB11374810_color=Color#navID=header&amp;start=172&amp;cgid=oshkosh-baby-boy-tops" target="_blank">Indigo hoodie</a><br /><a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/oshkosh-kid-boy-bottoms/V_OB31491311.html?dwvar_V__OB31491311_size=10&amp;cgid=oshkosh-kid-boy-bottoms&amp;dwvar_V__OB31491311_color=Color#navID=header&amp;start=17&amp;cgid=oshkosh-kid-boy-bottoms" target="_blank">Grey/striped shorts</a><br /><a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/oshkosh-baby-boy-new-arrivals-tops-and-bodysuits/VC_OB11477813.html?navid=oshkosh-xsellCartRecentlyViewed" target="_blank">Navy Striped shirt</a><br /><a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/oshkosh-kid-boy-shorts/V_OB31214110.html?navid=oshkosh-bloomreach-widget-rp" target="_blank">Navy shorts</a><br /><br />Leo is wearing<br /><a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/oshkosh-baby-boy-new-arrivals/V_OB11508610.html?cgid=oshkosh-baby-boy-new-arrivals&amp;dwvar_V__OB11508610_color=Color&amp;dwvar_V__OB11508610_size=0-3M#navID=header&amp;start=141&amp;cgid=oshkosh-baby-boy-new-arrivals" target="_blank">Grey joggers</a><br /><a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/oshkosh-baby-boy-new-arrivals/V_OB11555810.html?cgid=oshkosh-baby-boy-new-arrivals&amp;dwvar_V__OB11555810_color=Color&amp;dwvar_V__OB11555810_size=0-3M#navID=header&amp;start=1&amp;cgid=oshkosh-baby-boy-new-arrivals" target="_blank">Playsuit&nbsp;</a><br /><br />Other credits:<br /><a href="http://www.lily-jade.com/designer-diaper-bags-s/1817.htm" target="_blank">Diaper backpack: Lily Jade</a><br /><a href="http://www.designlifekids.com/furniture/4lxd965q41f4v414l41t3f1uoedkon" target="_blank">The World carpet in Simon's room</a></div>Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-58111431046786282842016-08-11T06:32:00.006-07:002016-08-11T20:12:02.949-07:00Styled confused<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-q2Oq2lncrWU/V6tyul-rWdI/AAAAAAAABg0/FR_Ay5ShwYE/s640/blogger-image--950613570.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-z4q0pq69jf0/V6vSwum4K7I/AAAAAAAABhQ/tcdlgh5-7oo/s640/blogger-image--1883199057.jpg" /><br /><br />So I am a little bit in the style pits lately, I am just not too sure how to dress, nor am I really feeling "it", you know!?... I thought I was over that stage but nope, it is back again.<br /><br /><br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-q2Oq2lncrWU/V6tyul-rWdI/AAAAAAAABg0/FR_Ay5ShwYE/s640/blogger-image--950613570.jpg" /><br /><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-suU2zJpI-AM/V5qXCEqF0-I/AAAAAAAABek/8WP7b8R92_M/s640/blogger-image-2076311573.jpg" width="480" /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ArR0__sJORo/V5t6ClOulxI/AAAAAAAABfM/ijqxAOcfu6U/s640/blogger-image-720886759.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QLj0OS452N4/V5t6D1WV4YI/AAAAAAAABfU/G7IRRBAwCiU/s640/blogger-image-1073653254.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>&nbsp;You know once you quit your day job and become a mom, your style changes 180 degrees, maybe even 240, and mine is shifting somewhere again. Maybe it will do a full 360?<br /><br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="more"></a><br /><a name='more'></a><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ExIR8qjf7Lw/V5wN5hVclTI/AAAAAAAABgA/7vYYc_tnuIc/s640/blogger-image--2097712553.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ExIR8qjf7Lw/V5wN5hVclTI/AAAAAAAABgA/7vYYc_tnuIc/s400/blogger-image--2097712553.jpg" width="300" /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--ZHZXYwm6S0/V5wJrbKAL6I/AAAAAAAABfs/fSWBaNdx3Sg/s400/blogger-image--647880210.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><br />In the meantime, as typical Pisces, I think I am rather a "go with the flow" type of a fish, I am always trying to blend in, to belong and I think my personal style has always been following those needs, adapting with me, sort of like my personal chameleon's coat... so now that I moved to a different city and inherited a different lifestyle with it, I am sort of questioning my style's natural instincts to blend in and looking at myself through the eyes of others around me, and I wonder, who the crap is she?<br /><div><br /><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QLj0OS452N4/V5t6D1WV4YI/AAAAAAAABfU/G7IRRBAwCiU/s640/blogger-image-1073653254.jpg" width="640" /><br /><br /></div><div>Like if I am overdressed, underdressed, too eclectic, controversial, am I "trashy" or still cool, not age appropriate or too trendy? I realize some of these are almost excluding each other but it doesn't mean I don't feel each one, all or a few of these at a time... I still wear pretty basic stuff, so sometimes I feel underdressed, but I do like my accessories, noticeable shoes or coats or purses (here women don't even wear purses, hold their money and keys in their cars?) so then I feel overdressed right along with underdressed, sounds a bit schizophrenic? I realize it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ArR0__sJORo/V5t6ClOulxI/AAAAAAAABfM/ijqxAOcfu6U/s400/blogger-image-720886759.jpg" width="300" /><br /><br /><br />I also feel like I am young still cause so many people with kids Simon's age are older than me here, but then I also feel possibly quite frankly pretty old, like maybe too "serious" to be wearing a nose ring and three-day unruly hair,&nbsp; one can tell, here some women really spend time and money on that kind of a thing... so Which one is it, who am I in this suburban village of different species than the city folk?<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><br /><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-EDDuZvS3TYo/V5wJr48IIwI/AAAAAAAABfw/GUVpZLte1-A/s640/blogger-image--249149865.jpg" width="480" /><br /><br /><br /><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-F5z9x2-UZ5E/V5qY4kOBt6I/AAAAAAAABew/M2ofdSiXuA8/s640/blogger-image--1202946831.jpg" width="480" /><br /><br /><br /><br />So yeah, I feel a bit style confused, at a cross road between Anja in her 20s, and Anja in her 30s.<br />Anja out of her element, I also feel like it may have something to do with my mental state, like I am almost ready to adapt to being here, but still something is pulling me back, something pulling me forward.<br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qYmPjVwZYiI/V6tyuJmy2QI/AAAAAAAABgw/UHXwHcda9W4/s640/blogger-image--1754516426.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qYmPjVwZYiI/V6tyuJmy2QI/AAAAAAAABgw/UHXwHcda9W4/s400/blogger-image--1754516426.jpg" width="300" /></a> <img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-X-XbzDcZ23k/V6vSuspxVII/AAAAAAAABhE/vQUfW2_LgYE/s400/blogger-image-498226625.jpg" width="300" /><br />So yeah, here is a phone dump of some outfits attempts that are still a bit confused, just like me at the moment.<br /><br />Credits:<br />black diagonal tank: <a href="http://www.designlifekids.com/adults/diagonal-tank?category=WOMEN" target="_blank">DesignLifeKids&nbsp;</a><br />black diaper backpack/bag:<a href="http://www.lily-jade.com/" target="_blank"> Lilly Jade co.&nbsp;</a><br />black trapeze tee:&nbsp; <a href="http://www.designlifekids.com/adults/diagonal-tank?category=WOMEN" target="_blank">DesignLifeKids&nbsp;</a><br />white jeans: <a href="https://www.shopthemint.com/products/the-molly-skinny-jeans-white?utm_source=Blog%20Collab&amp;utm_medium=Anja%20Mari&amp;utm_campaign=Blog%20Collab" target="_blank">Shop Mint</a><br />Levis distressed jeans: <a href="http://shopredone.com/" target="_blank">REDONE&nbsp;</a><br />Striped tee: <a href="http://blossomandglow.com.au/product-category/breastfeeding/tops-breastfeeding-wear/page/3/" target="_blank">Blossom n Glow&nbsp; </a><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yyDxcTcV5Wc/V5t6DYi4EgI/AAAAAAAABfQ/TXbp4aeIPiw/s640/blogger-image--664754777.jpg" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u7DjoltIMwk/V6vSwF0SuoI/AAAAAAAABhM/Fx6YyYbwotc/s640/blogger-image-1818157341.jpg" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7wC0vuiq1Xk/V5t6Eg6QzLI/AAAAAAAABfY/sXKiLLLqqpo/s640/blogger-image-1717060418.jpg" /></div>Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-69077504077359347902016-07-11T10:49:00.002-07:002016-07-12T07:01:41.631-07:00Polished reminiscence<img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6BhUihk_kaE/V4AtUiMa1qI/AAAAAAAABdU/LPOUOm6dHYI/s640/blogger-image-1862627713.jpg" /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-A37BXRijkp4/V4RXyM64nhI/AAAAAAAABd0/4NuiRZjZEgs/s640/blogger-image-1804657225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TCMmc5oVvRw/V4RXywJkXHI/AAAAAAAABd4/tcCnL8qiJPw/s640/blogger-image-2077366127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><br />&nbsp;I wrote this right after I came back, but it took me three weeks to put it together, oh life... <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><xml>***</xml></div><xml>So we are home, today marks a week since we landed back on American soil, and I feel like I have never left. It feels like I haven’t been to Poland, or I have, but in a different life, in some altered dimension and for sure a thousand years ago. I would even say I was dreaming it, if it wasn’t for the fact that Simon’s polish really improved and he is still walking around building sentences and all, responding to me and such, or was is indeed magic!?<br /><br /><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-txV5PyT3Ea8/V3_bdL_hyAI/AAAAAAAABcc/8epWDLEnMDw/s320/blogger-image-1669289329.jpg" width="240" /><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 2em;"><br /></div><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-DKuSAH_GdB8/V3_bgdbuOvI/AAAAAAAABcw/UssK2wiG9mg/s320/blogger-image--1118202301.jpg" width="240" /><br /><br />So yeah, that is how it usually feels, it seems like in the age of facetime and Dreamliners, that 6,000 miles is not really that big of a distance, the world is much smaller after all. But it does. I feel every mile of the distance and every hour of the time difference, each closing down the window of connection between the worlds. I think quite obviously the time and distance are the real reasons why it always feels like this, why it always feels like it didn’t happen, or happened in a different life, but it is just so surprising… every time it happens.<br /> </xml><br /><a name='more'></a><br /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-x4ZpASst8HE/V35Z96nbaAI/AAAAAAAABbs/VhoEVTXfUaE/s400/blogger-image-1402245869.jpg" width="300" /><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 2em;"><br /></div><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Vl7ujU3QrKk/V35aCIyX_3I/AAAAAAAABcI/MnvjldNNoa0/s400/blogger-image--1714604092.jpg" width="300" /><br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2vHq1jGef90/V3_dlEqg8eI/AAAAAAAABdA/iLx7OgFFvRU/s1600/blogger-image-1209806710.jpg" /><br /><br /><br />Yesterday, I miraculously stayed awake past nine o’clock, conquered my jet-lagged instincts to fall asleep standing, only to watch Silicon Valley (and I think everyone should watch it for that matter, it is pretty funny, and seemingly full of wisdom … ”sometimes, I imagine that my skeleton is me and my body is my house, that way I am always home”… absurd? Perhaps? Oddly funny too, because in my case it is also true... <br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-T5kKjDACg5o/V3_bfqPWP1I/AAAAAAAABcs/ZsuQ3pZtUnI/s640/blogger-image--911082298.jpg" /><br /><br />Each time I go and come back, apart from the jet-lagged, I also suffer from what I would call - a sentient split. Something opens up in me again, something that before I had left felt nonexistent, almost healed up. It takes a dose of a mind bending, perceptual antibiotic to reverse it, to get back into balance, force everything back to the state of acceptable existence. It is like some kind of scarred tissue that I just wear, walk around it attached to my chest but don't feel it too often… unless someone points it out and asks "where are you from?" Then I realize it is still there, just like having a giant scar I guess... I feel like I am opening a wound over and over and over again, anytime it patches up, here we go again. So the scarred tissue is thin and shrill…<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NshVVFbIGI4/V35aCl_T_RI/AAAAAAAABcM/tWW3WYV7v7s/s640/blogger-image-334753349.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NshVVFbIGI4/V35aCl_T_RI/AAAAAAAABcM/tWW3WYV7v7s/s640/blogger-image-334753349.jpg" /></a> <br /><br />Hence this time, I have questioned the whole process, why am I doing this to myself, over and over again, should I give myself more time to heal, do I even allow myself to? Shouldn’t I just live here and now, left “there” and was finally “here”, got rid of all this nostalgia, and sentiments behind.<br /><br /><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-vTfbVbbgwmU/V3_betQTPzI/AAAAAAAABck/fKHboi2noHA/s320/blogger-image-506195516.jpg" width="234" /><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 2em;"><br /></div><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-K5Kmk7cGDy8/V35aAShsbtI/AAAAAAAABb8/PIoDCgeb5I0/s320/blogger-image-362510361.jpg" width="240" /><br /><br /><br />I guess what I mean is that it costs a lot and I don't even mean the airfare...<br /><br /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-mC_nn4h1olA/V35Z_hBQSrI/AAAAAAAABb4/J_SQt8qes9s/s400/blogger-image-296816924.jpg" width="300" /><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 2em;"><br /></div><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9M9BDaXdpMg/V35Z8lDhrnI/AAAAAAAABbo/73PYBnjzQJ0/s400/blogger-image-160393384.jpg" width="300" /><br /><br /><br />Then I look at my children, look at everything they are and I wonder if they will feel the same way at some point, will that also affect them? Do I want to inject them with that slit malady, uproot them just slightly so they feel like me, even if marginally, still out of the here and now? Won't they feel uncanny, will they recognize the ache? Will they wonder why and where is it coming from? If so, they will always feel half of something... and being half of something doesn’t mean it is worse, but generally when you are a half something, half from somewhere, doesn’t it make it harder for you to feel full, full at all times, without the ache? <br /><br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MCL7aUtXX8Y/V35Z_L6yuRI/AAAAAAAABb0/Ju2Ee0lrT74/s640/blogger-image--528034977.jpg" /><br /><br />And then I see Simon, speaking polish fluently only after two weeks of being there, I see Leo opening up to everyone, welcoming new faces with smiles and wonder of delight, seeing all these people that fill their lives, even if only for a little bit, and then I see it is good, even if they disappear shortly after… I repeat to myself that it is all worth it, it is worth the wound, the wound I keep re-digging, it is worth the split, it is even worth their slim uncomfortableness, their "so who am I really?" Because when we are torn just a little, we feel a little more too... I hope they will appreciate it one day and that it will make them happy that we did this to ourselves, because all the beautiful things in life tend to leave us with scars...<br /><br /><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TCMmc5oVvRw/V4RXywJkXHI/AAAAAAAABd4/tcCnL8qiJPw/s320/blogger-image-2077366127.jpg" width="240" /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nrzlDzHXWAs/V4RXxEsH5ZI/AAAAAAAABdw/QoCqEzTZwJ0/s640/blogger-image--1432442190.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nrzlDzHXWAs/V4RXxEsH5ZI/AAAAAAAABdw/QoCqEzTZwJ0/s320/blogger-image--1432442190.jpg" width="246" /></a><br /><br />Credits:<br />Cake: my mom<br />Leo and Simon's Warsaw finest shirts: <a href="http://holahola.pl/lala-kids_1.html?order=ordering&amp;s%5B18%5D%5B0%5D=74" target="_blank">PLNY Lalakids </a><br />Simon's bear pants: <a href="http://huxbaby.com/" target="_blank">HuxBaby</a><br />Wireless earphones: <a href="http://www.sudiosweden.com/" target="_blank">Sudio Sweden</a><br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QuGtUzyRPvE/V3_beK7ZdwI/AAAAAAAABcg/ODofjoCikhk/s640/blogger-image--1529475975.jpg" /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NshVVFbIGI4/V35aCl_T_RI/AAAAAAAABcM/tWW3WYV7v7s/s640/blogger-image-334753349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1OWEQUCxPK8/V35Z-ZDFNXI/AAAAAAAABbw/lC7IaPH6UGE/s640/blogger-image-1330408931.jpg" /><br /><br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-iDxeHhgKbOM/V35aBnjtlsI/AAAAAAAABcE/qUWKbIBR2mQ/s640/blogger-image-1094627001.jpg" /><br /><br /><br /><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ZV7oRwxEFDQ/V3_bfD2-5wI/AAAAAAAABco/AMAaZjzP0tE/s320/blogger-image--476910011.jpg" width="302" /></div><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></div><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-A37BXRijkp4/V4RXyM64nhI/AAAAAAAABd0/4NuiRZjZEgs/s320/blogger-image-1804657225.jpg" width="240" />Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com61tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-88837313840505496212016-04-30T06:53:00.000-07:002016-04-30T06:53:00.148-07:00On Loneliness.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-lPbN9hOVeZI/VyK9Itu-KOI/AAAAAAAABZQ/4vyrYeOCNZk/s640/blogger-image-1721256203.jpg" /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qTAECfPSt4A/VyK9Jw7qveI/AAAAAAAABZY/6mASnFBJNws/s640/blogger-image-1127024151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div>The dust has settled down, and we are settled in, trying to feel like home is home. Trying to adjust to the new normal that still feels out of ordinary. The new normal of being completely, utterly out of place. We are hoping that our new place will feel in place and like our place, sometime, soon, but probably later than sooner. Sadly I can keep going, oh brother, I won't... <br /><br /><br /><a name='more'></a><br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qTAECfPSt4A/VyK9Jw7qveI/AAAAAAAABZY/6mASnFBJNws/s640/blogger-image-1127024151.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qTAECfPSt4A/VyK9Jw7qveI/AAAAAAAABZY/6mASnFBJNws/s640/blogger-image-1127024151.jpg" /></a><br /><br />And let me tell you, quite bluntly. I feel pretty lonely at times. Quite vividly, on a Monday morning, when the doors behind Cass close and I am left in the quiet house, a house that still needs so much organizing and cleaning and figuring out, a task that feels so damn overwhelming and daunting, like a constant reminder that we are starting from scratch... I am not saying this because I seek pity, I am not saying this because I think anything can be done differently, I am saying this because it is true, and I feel like the lonesome burden is well understood among mothers like myself and maybe even among mothers unlike myself. I think in general humans are battling loneliness, thus I am saying this so at least in this aspect, I don't feel lonely, see what I did here?...I hope it makes sense. <br /><br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-V2155IfNjIg/VyK_UNwVPqI/AAAAAAAABZ0/NZPCYbVuirc/s640/blogger-image-589645448.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-V2155IfNjIg/VyK_UNwVPqI/AAAAAAAABZ0/NZPCYbVuirc/s640/blogger-image-589645448.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br />I have always been a lonesome type, always longing for something, I think it is a natural habitat of a melancholic soul like mine. Such soul always seeks to fill some void, always. I was always aware of it and grew to coexist with it. <br /><br /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-vDWTOXthZ6I/VyK_VzjH-OI/AAAAAAAABaA/AdOnP_au4i0/s400/blogger-image--1872837092.jpg" width="300" /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WvzLhYQEzyw/VyK_Sx6wYxI/AAAAAAAABZs/3mTNBTOjpB8/s400/blogger-image-1154321635.jpg" width="272" /><br /><br /><br /><br />However, the recent state of affairs amplified this feeling, the void, the ache and made me dig deeper into it. <br /><br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-rXNnYbokrYg/VyK_STyWdhI/AAAAAAAABZo/9xwLpeDCzXA/s640/blogger-image-504583492.jpg" /><br /><br /><br />I know that the life I chose a long time ago would involve more loneliness than average. If there is even any gauge measuring loneliness… cause that just doesn’t make sense, but still, my situation, moving away from my family, my country, my language and culture, destined me into feeling like this, more often than not. <br /><br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-atmlZwBv9Gw/VyK_UlTJAcI/AAAAAAAABZ4/9MWYREHIwGM/s640/blogger-image-1718753431.jpg" /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4j-Ud5nzmwY/VyK_WRYY-xI/AAAAAAAABaE/xsx2VEs1rqk/s640/blogger-image--1515135218.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4j-Ud5nzmwY/VyK_WRYY-xI/AAAAAAAABaE/xsx2VEs1rqk/s640/blogger-image--1515135218.jpg" /></a><br /><br />I was always a "seek to please" kind of a person, I want to do things right so so it is hard for someone to have something against me, because knowing that someone may not approve of something I do is just like a bullet to my heart, as if it could kill me in an instant. Pretty silly and pretty immature and definitely a few weeks of therapy for postpartum anxiety won't really fix that kind of a personality issue. I also know now that people who want to always keep everyone happy around them are often the loneliest people around. I attest to this. I am slowly learning how not to waste my energy on trying to constantly control "PR status" among my family and friends, but it is difficult to let go of that thought. It requires a lot of trust and self-acceptance and confidence, all virtues I am still trying to grow. <br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TM4D_4x2llk/VyK_VJfTI4I/AAAAAAAABZ8/a9O_CvmxTpk/s640/blogger-image--50589292.jpg" /><br /><br />And yet, I moved distances that broke apart many real life relationships, so naively, I seek, what I cannot keep onto in real life, in the virtual one. <br /><br />I found friends online, real friends, some I have never met but I know one day I will... But apart from that, an attempt to fill the lone void with social media is a really pooor, poor choice of a remedy. I mean it is easy for a person like me to seek it there, but I know I will never fully find it either. We all know how social media gauges of likes and harts are changing with a sinusoidal regularity. Also… sometimes things don't mean what they seem to mean, sometimes not saying anything speaks a thousand words too, there is much negativity to be found, even if one avoids it, it will find its way around to invite itself in. so it is easy to feel lonely on there too... I heard term a "hate follow" and it sort of scared me, but then again, if it is something I cannot control, so I really should stop trying.<br /><div>&nbsp; <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2_gIwDqjwA0/VyNkOTLxvZI/AAAAAAAABaY/4gbVG6fnQ3A/s640/blogger-image--664661440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2_gIwDqjwA0/VyNkOTLxvZI/AAAAAAAABaY/4gbVG6fnQ3A/s640/blogger-image--664661440.jpg" /></a></div><br />Currently, I feel like life is a bit of a bubble, it is hard to be in this new place surrounded by strangers, but it is also impossible to remedy this with just social media and the virtual world. But I also know it is a stage, a difficult one for a soul like mine that needs to feed off of people's energy that likes to be surrounded by people, that loves to interact. This motherhood gig is a great one, but I feel like it deprives us of feeling like we are out there, with people, in the world.... I don't know, maybe it is just me feeling this way... I wish, I could feel that life is now, right here, in the little things, but I do struggle with that, and I constantly seek to fill that ache and void, with something bigger... Because it feels like the little things don't really do it, at least not all the way, not all of it, maybe it is just wider, deeper, sort of enlarged by everything that happened lately, again... <br /><br />I am writing this just a few days before I leave for Poland, I have been writing this for the past weeks with thoughts coming and going, cutting and deleting things, then adding more things back in. Because the topic I am trying to discuss is really complex... I know that the trip will help in some ways, but then won't help in others, I know, like a Facebook status, it is complicated. <br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-M6gz0fvzM2I/VyK9JWBQUOI/AAAAAAAABZU/AZ_tK1Db5tM/s640/blogger-image--1985518938.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-M6gz0fvzM2I/VyK9JWBQUOI/AAAAAAAABZU/AZ_tK1Db5tM/s640/blogger-image--1985518938.jpg" /></a><br /><i><b><br />One thing is true for sure though: Because I have been lonely, I value love. </b></i><br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-IGpSy4bSQYY/VyK9KnSRezI/AAAAAAAABZc/H-ejzzIkyv4/s640/blogger-image--2001090098.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-IGpSy4bSQYY/VyK9KnSRezI/AAAAAAAABZc/H-ejzzIkyv4/s640/blogger-image--2001090098.jpg" /></a><br /><br />I will continue to seek friends in real life, I will continue to seek friends online, but both with balance and distance rather than throwing my heart in front of it. I just need to focus on being me, the one I want to see, the me I want to be, the me I want to accept and I should not try to appease anyone else with it, it is nobody's job but mine, maybe then I will feel less lonely in this lonely period of life, happening now. <br /><br /><br />Credits:<br />Tripling dotted outfits: <a href="http://le.edit/">Le.Edit</a><br />Letter L poster: <a href="http://blackcat.design/" target="_blank">Black Cat Design</a><br />Shopping Cart Baby Hammock: <a href="http://binxybaby.com/" target="_blank">Binxy</a><br /><div class="MsoNormal">Wooden toys: <a href="https://www.folklorehk.com/" target="_blank">House of Folklore</a> - free shipping for USA readers if you click the link.</div><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> 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/></div>Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-55316337105034643442016-03-28T10:19:00.003-07:002016-04-07T03:06:16.965-07:00Easter, Spring and Staycation.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-YZYPTivwbfA/Vvk1TtGykPI/AAAAAAAABX8/gqcEo4kEJac/s640/blogger-image--809846367.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_TDEUTd_CWo/Vvk1RkLMJkI/AAAAAAAABXw/VK0PPMfBplc/s640/blogger-image-1224075444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-eA08OEZasZw/Vva39h1VvkI/AAAAAAAABWo/e2kFGB0DbzM/s640/blogger-image--1385116347.jpg" /><br /><br />Gosh is everyone hungry for spring as badly as I am? it seems like each years it gets more and more intense, this longing to be outside and actually enjoy it, to be warm and comfortable, to not regret one forgot gloves, or a hat or put on that third level coat on instead of the fashionable level one.<br /><br /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hZpIHMXqF_g/Vva4AKgZWNI/AAAAAAAABW0/EeEum5-z-rE/s400/blogger-image-592131049.jpg" width="300" /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-R0VjVMjc3CM/Vva383GQgeI/AAAAAAAABWk/70mqp5b5c-4/s400/blogger-image-272390601.jpg" width="300" /><br /><br /><a name='more'></a><br /><br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jq24li5MBZs/Vvk1Q0nHk0I/AAAAAAAABXs/FKN6wLudERo/s640/blogger-image-963280026.jpg" /> <br /><br />Thus, once the end of March rolls around and the Groundhog has been forecasting an early spring, but somehow it is still snowing, I am more than ready for a break, the spring break of my own, a break from cold and wetness and naked trees and mucky grass. I am over-the-ready for everything to bloom, for everything to turn green, oh the green....!<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-puCOjNY3LZU/Vva4Bs0KEgI/AAAAAAAABW8/2luLiaBVbMw/s640/blogger-image-1941030127.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-puCOjNY3LZU/Vva4Bs0KEgI/AAAAAAAABW8/2luLiaBVbMw/s640/blogger-image-1941030127.jpg" /></a><br /><br />So the moment it gets warmer than freezing, we start venturing out, I get crazy stir crazy during the winter so whenever the weekend comes, I need to be out, every weekend I need to go outside. I just have to do "something". To be honest, I don’t really know how to enjoy the slow and the easy of the weekends at home, I wish I could, sometimes I want to, but usually I just get anxious. I just feel this constant urge to get out of the house...<br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Sng2R3kw6lI/Vva3_DSjssI/AAAAAAAABWw/ThTP_Vh2czE/s640/blogger-image--1438158427.jpg" /><br /><br />And even though we won’t be traveling anywhere for Easter nor Spring break, I feel like we are sort of on a spring break the whole time, starting April through September, every weekend.<br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OENRdP7CZDU/Vva4CBo-HyI/AAAAAAAABXA/Fg0JAceV9hM/s640/blogger-image--659089377.jpg" /><br /><br />There is so much to explore right now, the whole city, but also the whole state and the states around it. There is so much history around here and so much nature, there are so many little trips to take and I am pretty excited about that, because who said adventures are to be had only on big getaways.<br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-a5iKfh2x3qY/Vva4A3TBzDI/AAAAAAAABW4/adCUg-MAYVc/s640/blogger-image-1805809854.jpg" /><br /><br />Also... yes, let's not kid ourselves, it is pretty tiring to go to a grocery store with a toddler and a baby, so let alone taking road trips, and lets not kid ourselves even further, because among all the adventures, and memories and smiles and pictures, there are the simultaneous cries in the car, the diaper blowouts, changing of the said diapers in gas stations' bathrooms, baby screaming so the said whole gas station could hear, and finally a toddler sugar overdose, courtesy of the said gas station's slurpee machines, oh looking so tempting. But then again, it is the reality of our lives right now, our messy, noisy stage.<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TAs9fEASGVo/VvljozTW2RI/AAAAAAAABYk/f5LvYGUsSUo/s640/blogger-image-161285614.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TAs9fEASGVo/VvljozTW2RI/AAAAAAAABYk/f5LvYGUsSUo/s640/blogger-image-161285614.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WQV9FCuhvy4/Vvljnuofb-I/AAAAAAAABYc/jdsw6ViBIRA/s320/blogger-image-204231380.jpg" width="313" /><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-M7kA6fg1bUs/Vvljmkfv70I/AAAAAAAABYY/8e2zyEHYZeE/s320/blogger-image--419277118.jpg" width="240" /> <br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SXd7BE_AfcE/VvljoLIe0XI/AAAAAAAABYg/nO2fMzRAop0/s640/blogger-image-1654194186.jpg" /> <br /><br />For us, for our little family it is always rather lonely around any holidays, we do not have anyone around, no family we could spend Easter nor Christmas with and now that we moved, not even many friends. We are just alone. It always gets to me. So in order to combat the lonesome feelings, we try to celebrate our little family as much as we can. We try to separate the daily from the holidayily by doing something out of ordinary. Even though we have nowhere to go nor nowhere to be, we try to make the holiday time special. So for Easter, for spring, for this new season of freshness and blossoms, we dress up, we go out as much as we can and we try to follow all the traditions we would do with more family around. We mix customs from both sides of the family. We do a Good Friday quiet and fasting time, we do a Good Saturday food blessing at church, we attend mass and paint eggs and prepare traditional polish dishes, such as white borsch and a pate. But we also do eggs hunts and have Easter Bunny gifts and gosh we consume so much chocolate….<br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nWwMK_40ftY/Vvk1SfMsrwI/AAAAAAAABX0/XqHOtpsQ_m4/s640/blogger-image-1877615421.jpg" /><br /><br />So in order to make this happy, spring, easterly time happier, more special, more dressed up and fashionable, more easterly and springy for our boys, we teamed up with <a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/?cm_mmc=SocialMedia_OKBG-_-Blog-_-Ongoing-_-EA" target="_blank">OshkoshBgosh</a> and styled a few items from their new spring collection.<br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-YZYPTivwbfA/Vvk1TtGykPI/AAAAAAAABX8/gqcEo4kEJac/s640/blogger-image--809846367.jpg" /><br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-k62rwuO6MAw/Vvk1UUKsQOI/AAAAAAAABYA/b2k8OIhTe_o/s640/blogger-image-906419683.jpg" /><br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-b_dtQoyMgWA/Vvkv7JOJb1I/AAAAAAAABXU/OxifMRiPBDk/s1600/blogger-image-1683334410.jpg" /><br /><br />&nbsp;<img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sTRvrSEJCeg/Vvkv81ecWcI/AAAAAAAABXc/n7jwMPMT0l4/s320/blogger-image--525321116.jpg" width="240" /><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_TDEUTd_CWo/Vvk1RkLMJkI/AAAAAAAABXw/VK0PPMfBplc/s320/blogger-image-1224075444.jpg" width="240" /><br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-60dvv-wx35c/Vvkv6Sa0nTI/AAAAAAAABXQ/4U_LNR7LRyE/s640/blogger-image--1634106907.jpg" /><br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t_fzx1z6NyA/Vvkv7wHWjsI/AAAAAAAABXY/GgyEUDDlDJE/s640/blogger-image-1250074210.jpg" /> <br /><br />There is nothing I love more than some fresh denim and crispy whites for the spring season. Nothing screams more than starting over, spring-time and freshness, dapperness all over! I love pairing white shirts with denim, also a jean jacket is a must for everyone this season, including the littlest ones and boy oh boy!!! it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t have one of the kids in overalls when I am wearing overalls myself.<br /><br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0iZIcAeQjO8/Vva3-QZUsHI/AAAAAAAABWs/rnG2l-ATz4g/s640/blogger-image-793188663.jpg" /><br />So here it is to spring, and Easter and all things starting to bloom again! <br /><br /><i>This post is sponsored by OshKosh B’Gosh; however, all thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.</i><br /><br />If you want to shop the looks here is <a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/okbg-coupon-semseo-035634.html" target="_blank">coupon for 25% off</a> on top of all the discounts they are currently running, the online code is: <b>spring16</b>.<br /><br />Credits:<br /><a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/V_OG11065910.html?dwvar_V__OG11065910_color=Color&amp;dwvar_V__OG11065910_size=12M#q=denim&amp;prefn1=brand&amp;prefv1=oshkosh&amp;start=1" target="_blank">OshkoshBgosh baby overalls</a><br /><a href="http://www.oshkosh.com/oshkosh-baby-boy-bottoms/V_414G056.html?dwvar_V__414G056_size=12M&amp;dwvar_V__414G056_color=Color#q=denim&amp;prefn1=brand&amp;prefv1=oshkosh&amp;start=187" target="_blank">OshkoshBgosh baby jeans with suspenders</a><br /><a href="http://Hickory Stripe Denim Jacket " target="_blank">OshkoshBgosh Hickory Stripe Denim Jacket&nbsp;</a><br /><a href="http://www.designlifekids.com/adults/escape-utility-bag" target="_blank">DesignLifeKids ESCAPE bag</a><br /><br /><br /><br />Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-88943520265215053562016-03-21T06:52:00.000-07:002016-03-26T06:23:35.793-07:00As a Bostonette.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-oEBCkoNaIno/Vu9bODCEHhI/AAAAAAAABVg/Q1c56KOuN1U/s640/blogger-image-1571281440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-DpvBv5tCGeQ/Vu_4bbQDl-I/AAAAAAAABV0/9aS9x4KbAso/s640/blogger-image--1434588950.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Ac2HkhtpKGc/Vu_5JoiqUvI/AAAAAAAABWQ/TpkzBTYmz98/s640/blogger-image-1398665800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Ac2HkhtpKGc/Vu_5JoiqUvI/AAAAAAAABWQ/TpkzBTYmz98/s640/blogger-image-1398665800.jpg" /></a></div><br />So I have been here almost four months, yup, quite officially, I have a Mass driving license and all. And yes people refer to Massachusetts as Mass, and for the record it is not a state, it is a commonwealth, what does that mean? I am not 100% positive, but it does sound quite noble and in a way almost altruistic, like we will all be taking care of our wealth here and sharing it and all...<br />I know, I probably should have googled it before mentioning it... but without any further do, here are some things I have noticed about the reality in this new common wealth of our being.<br /><br /><a name='more'></a><br /><br /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gvI8YBWmArc/Vu_4wImDQ9I/AAAAAAAABWI/rK0BrRUMvzk/s400/blogger-image--270397710.jpg" width="300" /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yiHBfFTbEsk/Vu_4uTOxGoI/AAAAAAAABWA/X9hykETJdzc/s400/blogger-image-1944200480.jpg" width="300" /><br /><br /><ul></ul>1// to stay on the motor vehicle related topic, what is up with turning left here? like seriously people of Massachusetts what the heck are you thinking, like you don't abruptly go first and honk at someone who actually follows the righteous order of the right of way, people turning left all over the world yield to the incoming traffic, like everywhere, but apparently not here. Where is police on that? Who do they ticket when accidents happen? I need the city data on this..<br /><ul></ul><br /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WeAQ9QMntRo/Vu_4tjY2ccI/AAAAAAAABV8/R3XbrXnUy-o/s400/blogger-image-912213641.jpg" width="300" /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ZgLqdMeyttI/Vu_4ZoDaGDI/AAAAAAAABVw/uHMRwz9o1Xc/s400/blogger-image-154200571.jpg" width="300" /><br /><br /><ul></ul>2// we have two cars now, because in order to get anywhere we need one, meaning we need two ;) Both vehicles are registered with different license plates. One that we had back in Chicago has an Illinois plate, the other Idaho's. We haven't updated the plates, yet, shhhhhss don't tell anyone. Funny enough, I am being honked a lot less when driving the Illinois vehicle than the Idaho's one. Someone should write a PhD thesis on assumptions based on license plates and state stereotypes and peoples' behavior and road rage based on all of that. &nbsp; <br /><ul></ul><br /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NHnGDjw1mk0/Vu_4s8WnbWI/AAAAAAAABV4/_KICN5OrFOc/s400/blogger-image--1372436339.jpg" width="300" /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-DpvBv5tCGeQ/Vu_4bbQDl-I/AAAAAAAABV0/9aS9x4KbAso/s400/blogger-image--1434588950.jpg" width="300" /><br /><br /><ul></ul>3// there is no Starbucks, yup, all you hipsters out there, I don't know what you do, but Starbucks are as hard to come by, almost as hard as sun during a Chicago winter. pretty damn sparse. Not that I am a huge fan but it is just such a difference in the coffee drinking landscape. Dunkin Donuts rules everything, everywhere, people seem to love it and I see more DD cups everywhere than anything else really. But after all, Boston suburbs are the world headquarters of the joint. They roll out their new products and flavors in one specific location near my house, I need to learn to appreciate the little things like this I guess.<br /><ul></ul><ul></ul>4// people have warned me before coming out East about the rudeness and the distance and the telling as it is. While I really truly don't mind the latter, I have not really noticed the fist two. In fact, just the opposite. People here are pretty nice... Everyone always talks about the Midwest hospitality, and that I will miss it out here. I say that was a bunch of bologney, people are nice and not nice probably everywhere and so are they here too. I have actually met a lot of very nice people, everyone smiles at me and tries to help me seeing me with a bronco of a toddler, carrying an obnoxiously heavy car seat with a sleepy/hungry 20lbs baby. A lot of times in Chicago I felt I was in peoples' way, "move over and don't make a peep, nobody cares", here it is different, people seem like they have more time and actually make eye contact and see you, look at you as a person. I mean.. granted I was not downtown Boston during rush hours trying to pull off all my mommyhoodness on people in a rush to get to work/home, but everywhere else it is really quite pleasant and people are pretty friendly.<br /><ul></ul><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-oEBCkoNaIno/Vu9bODCEHhI/AAAAAAAABVg/Q1c56KOuN1U/s640/blogger-image-1571281440.jpg" /><br /><br /><ul></ul><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings></xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> 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Name="TOC Heading"/> </w:LatentStyles></xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]><style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style><![endif]-->5// the talking! i love how people sound here, such a treat, all that different talking! especially for a linguist who pays attention to all these quirks in pronunciation.. Like the absence of the letter -r-, I have read that this is something people held onto since the early 1900s! so for over a century people are saying here a /<span class="IPA" title="Representation in the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA)">khad/ instead of a /card/!! pretty much if you want to sound bostonian you just use -ah intead of your -r, more or less...&nbsp; and for the record wicked means awesome, so you need to use that a lot too. All this aside, Louis CK, a very wise man, look him up, once said that Boston accent is not an accent but a whole city pronouncing things the wrong way. Because really, how is Worcester pronounced Wu-ster and Dorchester is pronounced just Dorchester, that I don't know. I still have to practice the name of the suburb I live in, so people understand me, cause what I thought it should be pronounced as to them sounds pretty wrong, and I mean so wrong that they don't even understand what I am saying nor try to guess it!?&nbsp; </span><span class="IPA" title="Representation in the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA)">I am however thrilled to report that I hear people say Suppah! (supper! not dinner :) and yes Lickah (for liquor), Beeh (beer), Ba Ba (he cuts your hair), and yes Foddy Dollus would be forty dollars. </span><span class="IPA" title="Representation in the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA)"><br /></span><span class="IPA" title="Representation in the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA)">also this is pretty accurate: <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/katienotopoulos/29-reason-to-love-boston?sub=2148631_1077148#.eb5XEXjLl" target="_blank">http://www.buzzfeed.com</a></span><br /><br /><span class="IPA" title="Representation in the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA)">Ask me what do I miss about Chicago though... not the weather for sure, the weather here has been still waaaay nicer. But I do miss the skyline, Boston's skyline has a lot to learn from it. I miss the vibrancy and the monumentality, the overwhelming presence of the city, its breath on your neck, its grandness, trains. gosh i miss the trains! Boston is pretty but a bit too cozy for my liking. I miss being a part of this huge rush, I miss the El and knowing every line and its quirks, knowing the stop names and what neighborhood they take me to, I miss feeling like I know where I am and what I am doing.</span><br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_GxjczzFonI/Vu9bNpTjWoI/AAAAAAAABVc/P2MDgwF9DKs/s640/blogger-image-465587519.jpg" /><br /><br /><span class="IPA" title="Representation in the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA)">But I am happy that I am here, overall, I see a lot of good that came out of this move. I do miss Chicago but I also know that I idealize it and idealize the past... maybe because I am scared that if I don't think of it fondly, I will loose it, I need to stay faithful to it to remember it, not sure exactly where all these feelings come from, but there is more peace in it all, I made my peace with being here and I am starting to look forward to making memorable past while enjoying the future, if that makes sense.</span><br /><br /><br /><span class="IPA" title="Representation in the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA)">THE END </span><br /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WohGoAKiEFY/Vu_4vZAApvI/AAAAAAAABWE/4iZOcnryGqs/s400/blogger-image-1059173698.jpg" width="300" /><br /><span class="IPA" title="Representation in the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA)">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span><br /><span class="IPA" title="Representation in the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA)">Credits:</span><br /><span class="IPA" title="Representation in the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA)">hats: <a href="https://7amenfant.com/product-category/hats/" target="_blank">7amenfant </a></span><br /><span class="IPA" title="Representation in the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA)">Leo's shoes: <a href="http://lofficielenfant.com/" target="_blank">L'Officiel Enfant</a></span><br /><span class="IPA" title="Representation in the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA)">Leo's jacket: <a href="http://www.butimgrounded.com/" target="_blank">Grounded kidswear</a></span><br /><span class="IPA" title="Representation in the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA)">Watches:<a href="https://www.danielwellington.com/us/" target="_blank"> DanielWellington </a>use "anja_mari" by April 3rd to get 15% off </span>Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-88151070801390778982016-03-14T06:35:00.008-07:002016-03-21T08:42:05.839-07:00Six months with Leo Grey. #MothersPromise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GJvY9nZw8Do/VuYL6ElfhcI/AAAAAAAABT4/ruy2F6Me70A/s640/blogger-image--311914613.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GJvY9nZw8Do/VuYL6ElfhcI/AAAAAAAABT4/ruy2F6Me70A/s640/blogger-image--311914613.jpg" /></a></div><br /></div>I cannot believe I have just typed this, six months? have passed? I could have sworn I was just in the hospital, that he is still brand new and smells like a newborn. But to be honest, I see him growing every day. Any day I put him down for a nap I take out a bigger, slightly chubbier baby, the wrinkly newborn features are long gone and we arrived at this glorious giant baby doll phase. He is smiling all the time, even when he is crabby and wants to cry, he pauses to smile, then goes back to screaming. He is a very social baby, will let anyone hold him and will smile at anyone, I sort of feel jealous, cause he is giving it all for free to anyone, nothing reserved for me, okay maybe the nighttime feedings. He only wants me and the tap.<br /><br /><a name='more'></a><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OfTKh54XC_Y/Vua6pZlSkOI/AAAAAAAABUs/A8IkzqqZY9I/s640/blogger-image--1566264153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OfTKh54XC_Y/Vua6pZlSkOI/AAAAAAAABUs/A8IkzqqZY9I/s640/blogger-image--1566264153.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--htk328goXU/Vua74YjFqrI/AAAAAAAABVA/r1yue_Xs1oc/s640/blogger-image--109861195.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--htk328goXU/Vua74YjFqrI/AAAAAAAABVA/r1yue_Xs1oc/s640/blogger-image--109861195.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><br />I was naïve thinking same things work for different babies, my babies after all. Leo proves me wrong, like all the time. We thought Simon to sleep 12 hours at night. It wasn’t anything crazy or special, it happened by itself. Probably because when I was in school I would leave three times a week in the evening and Cass would put Simon down and feed him a bottle, I would also pump enough so he could sometimes feed him at night. Simon got so used to it and I guess found it so NOT entertaining that very quickly he started dropping his feedings and by six months most nights he would sleep for 12 hours straight… Leo is nowhere there, and cries at Cass, when he tries the bottle at night. But with a few rougher nights, we managed to, sort of, sleep train him to wake up only twice, and it is okay for now. He sleeps for 12 hours, first stretch is 5 hours, then 4 hours and then he wakes around 6:30am. Good enough for now.<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-FSRkpUts5zI/Vua6mekoFlI/AAAAAAAABUc/UNDHQtPoqJA/s640/blogger-image--757301846.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-FSRkpUts5zI/Vua6mekoFlI/AAAAAAAABUc/UNDHQtPoqJA/s640/blogger-image--757301846.jpg" /></a> <a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UVqhw1lbIq0/Vua73ZcriBI/AAAAAAAABU8/IKbunIbPjGw/s640/blogger-image-1670601374.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UVqhw1lbIq0/Vua73ZcriBI/AAAAAAAABU8/IKbunIbPjGw/s640/blogger-image-1670601374.jpg" /></a><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-pENfZqS7z_Q/Vua6nj-e9WI/AAAAAAAABUk/SDUyIyMliGM/s640/blogger-image-64252892.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div>He is a big baby, I mean I guess a birth weight of almost 10lbs puts you ahead a bit. He rolls very easily and he is sort of almost crawling, so weird to have such an active baby, Simon was born a little early, so he always was sort of catching up, he did well, but Leo seems a lot more “advanced”… oh brother, pun intended, did I just say that?!! Anyhow, at 4 months he was 17lbs, so I assume he will be way over 20lbs at his six month appointment. He almost outgrew size 3 in his Pampers, we have been the Pampers family with both babies, no other diaper holds all the weeee better and I am too lazy to change him at night, not until the wetness indicator strap is all the way blue ;)<br /><br />When we stumbled upon the new <a href="http://www.walmart.com/ip/Pampers-Premium-Care-Disposable-Diapers-Huge-Box-Choose-Your-Size/44931357?action=product_interest&amp;action_type=title&amp;item_id=44931357&amp;placement_id=irs-106-t1&amp;strategy=PWVUB&amp;visitor_id&amp;category=&amp;client_guid=81fb0544-397b-4919-8ab2-c42469ec91c9&amp;customer_id_enc&amp;config_id=106&amp;parent_item_id=44931350&amp;parent_anchor_item_id=44931350&amp;guid=a964a1e5-c35e-452c-a8cc-c6a2a4ac2ae5&amp;bucket_id=irsbucketdefault&amp;beacon_version=1.0.1&amp;findingMethod=p13n" target="_blank">Pampers Premium Care</a> at Walmart, it was like upgrading from already once upgraded ride, sort of like being in business class and being bumped into first class.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-87jCGUPvkqs/Vua6kHUTvqI/AAAAAAAABUQ/QQNuQiEfdz0/s640/blogger-image-656542772.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-HO5npl8_XrU/Vua6ijHRD_I/AAAAAAAABUI/23FH4mZeFPQ/s640/blogger-image-802377689.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-HO5npl8_XrU/Vua6ijHRD_I/AAAAAAAABUI/23FH4mZeFPQ/s640/blogger-image-802377689.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Leo has very sensitive skin, Simon does too, and so do I… and by experience I know there could be a lots of zits in these boys’ future. Many store brand diapers would give both of them rashes, to the point we cloth diapered Simon during the day (let’s be honest, I was too lazy for the night so Simon was in Pampers at night too). The Pampers Premium Care are really finest quality, hypoallergenic, durable, leak proof etc. Leo’s bum is pretty happy with that for sure and gives it a five star rating.<br /><br />In other news, he has two teeth and two are about to cut through. He has not tried any solids yet, but I am looking forward to it, I think he will love it, he tries to lick the water from his hands during the bath time and he seems to find it exquisitely delicious, smacks his lips and all, even if there is soap, I think he ain’t picky.<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u2JTym6XCzI/Vua72Qg4VHI/AAAAAAAABU4/g3IlnT-eKsc/s640/blogger-image--1598674376.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u2JTym6XCzI/Vua72Qg4VHI/AAAAAAAABU4/g3IlnT-eKsc/s640/blogger-image--1598674376.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Leo is also a little traveler, he always has been, en womb, he flew around the country and oversees. Not being two months old we moved him from Chicago to Boston, he stayed in hotels and temporary housing with us. He was over four months when he finally arrived at the final destination of his own crib in his own room. But pretty soon we are embarking on another adventure and going to Poland, just the three of us, Leo, Simon and I.<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yfcyn3FZimk/Vua6jTVVjvI/AAAAAAAABUM/J9vg8WsCEYg/s640/blogger-image-29663247.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yfcyn3FZimk/Vua6jTVVjvI/AAAAAAAABUM/J9vg8WsCEYg/s640/blogger-image-29663247.jpg" /></a> <a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sh2-1LHe9BI/Vua6k8feSuI/AAAAAAAABUU/f0IyUPsv8RU/s640/blogger-image-617585163.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sh2-1LHe9BI/Vua6k8feSuI/AAAAAAAABUU/f0IyUPsv8RU/s640/blogger-image-617585163.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Ta-jIR8_a6E/Vua6oYQWFWI/AAAAAAAABUo/cRR3O9lcyoo/s640/blogger-image-1112830567.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Ta-jIR8_a6E/Vua6oYQWFWI/AAAAAAAABUo/cRR3O9lcyoo/s640/blogger-image-1112830567.jpg" /></a> <a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CVQqPwqmPDw/Vua6lVIoiQI/AAAAAAAABUY/QecLNL2wbQQ/s640/blogger-image--836866940.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CVQqPwqmPDw/Vua6lVIoiQI/AAAAAAAABUY/QecLNL2wbQQ/s640/blogger-image--836866940.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-pENfZqS7z_Q/Vua6nj-e9WI/AAAAAAAABUk/SDUyIyMliGM/s640/blogger-image-64252892.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>At first I was worried, I didn’t know if it was best for him to have such a moving ground under his babiness of being, didn’t he need to feel secure and safe? How to find it when you are always on the go?<br />But he surprised me, of course he did, he is such a flexible baby, he made it possible for us to do it all and survive, even when exhausted, on no good schedule, kept awake too long, he did so well, hardly cried or complained, just a happy baby, a traveler baby.<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-pENfZqS7z_Q/Vua6nj-e9WI/AAAAAAAABUk/SDUyIyMliGM/s640/blogger-image-64252892.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-pENfZqS7z_Q/Vua6nj-e9WI/AAAAAAAABUk/SDUyIyMliGM/s640/blogger-image-64252892.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wgGnQjIbHuA/Vua6nCyQq1I/AAAAAAAABUg/v69NjnuVt7c/s640/blogger-image-2026997584.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wgGnQjIbHuA/Vua6nCyQq1I/AAAAAAAABUg/v69NjnuVt7c/s640/blogger-image-2026997584.jpg" /></a> <br /><br />He showed me that he is audacious and capable of doing the wildest things with me, he showed me he is not afraid to be out and about and showed me that I should not confide us into the safe four walls of his nursery. So I am taking part in the #motherspromise campaign with #pampers and want to promise him that I will be brave for the both of us, that I will show him the world. I will take him out, I will get out of the convenient and safe mind frame, that I will be brave for him and with him. Hence I “WILL SHOW HIM THE WORLD”, I will make sure he knows his heritage and his family scattered around the world, that he will see other worlds than his own, appreciate diversity and cultural differences. That he will be open minded, appreciate what is different about people, not what is the same. That he will love different accents and looks instead of making fun of them. That he will be color blind and see the world how it is, in a more global way, not “I am the center of the world” way. In today’s environment, it is so important to take the kids and show them how big the world is, how different, and how amazing, to enrich their compassion towards others, their thinking of others, their appreciation and respect of others.<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-87jCGUPvkqs/Vua6kHUTvqI/AAAAAAAABUQ/QQNuQiEfdz0/s640/blogger-image-656542772.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-87jCGUPvkqs/Vua6kHUTvqI/AAAAAAAABUQ/QQNuQiEfdz0/s640/blogger-image-656542772.jpg" /></a><br /><br />In order to remember about the promise and set a mind frame to fulfill it for all of us and by all of us, we did a little DYI project. We put together a writable wall map to discuss and plan our travels, to get excited about the world and the endless possibilities ahead. All supplies were purchased off Amazon (<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B013F1CU3A?psc=1&amp;redirect=true&amp;ref_=oh_aui_detailpage_o03_s01" target="_blank">map</a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00E5UQPL4?psc=1&amp;redirect=true&amp;ref_=oh_aui_detailpage_o01_s00" target="_blank">chalk board</a>).<br /><br />So I will be taking him to Poland, but that is not enough, I want to take him and his brother to Asia, maybe to South America, someplace where it is so different than what they know, so they know there is more than what they know, and what they know is not the only way to know.<br /><br />So I am raising my coffee mug to this little boyfriend of mine, my little companion, to all the adventures we will have, to getting out of the comfort zone, to being bold and curious and willing. To loving the world in its greatness.<br /><br />A little flipagram video of Leo's six months: <a href="https://flipagram.com/f/lyIftHEqmF">https://flipagram.com/f/lyIftHEqmF</a> <br /><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><i>&nbsp;This post has been sponsored by Pampers, the brand we know and trust. All opinions expressed are my own.</i><br /><br /><i> </i></div>Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-18663057839095960982016-02-27T17:14:00.002-08:002016-03-01T10:33:52.851-08:00{Perspetctives. Renewed.}<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-eSEbOsOMR74/VtJIAs-lFbI/AAAAAAAABTc/NI_iGLQ_pfQ/s640/blogger-image-682868583.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-eSEbOsOMR74/VtJIAs-lFbI/AAAAAAAABTc/NI_iGLQ_pfQ/s640/blogger-image-682868583.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><br /><div>Sooooo this post… well, I typed it and sat on it for a while. It is very personal and rather “nobody probably needs to know this”, but I needed to write it, so it can serve as a long term reminder for myself. Reminder of how much I under-appreciate things, how easy it is to lose everything, how much there is&nbsp; to loose, and how much I have to be grateful for. And I do need such reminder. Now that, I look at it with the perspective of time, I feel odd nostalgia over how beautifully and clearly these events made me see the world, at least for the time being. Ironically, they happened during one of the busiest, most crazy weeks, but instead of being overwhelmed, cranky or annoyed, that week I was just happy. Thus I wanted to type it and now I want to post it, just so it is there and I remember about it. So this is sort of my window to accountability, my reason to say it out loud: my life is pretty good as it is, it doesn’t suck, at all, and I need to say thank you to it a lot more than "give me more” type of stuff...<br /><br /><b>Because sometimes the bad things in life, open your eyes to things you took for granted before.</b><br /><b></b><br /><a name='more'></a><br /><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2TRjeDgV_Og/Vs99KtINE8I/AAAAAAAABRo/6oQuws3AtV8/s640/blogger-image--317681605.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2TRjeDgV_Og/Vs99KtINE8I/AAAAAAAABRo/6oQuws3AtV8/s640/blogger-image--317681605.jpg" /></a><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2TRjeDgV_Og/Vs99KtINE8I/AAAAAAAABRo/6oQuws3AtV8/s640/blogger-image--317681605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><br />This is a story about a girl who thought she is made of steel and those scary mortal oddities are beside her, it turned out that she may as well be, but for a moment there she thought like she is not. Obviously, like everyone else she is very mortal and all those worst of the worst things in the world can easily happen to her, because why not, why would she be any different, shit happens to people, yup SHIT happens, and sometimes the bigger shit the better people… so when so many suffer why should she be free of it, why? She thought maybe now it was her turn…<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-fQm-veuleQ8/Vs99HQA9huI/AAAAAAAABRY/SYMa0ApqoWw/s640/blogger-image--248540085.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0TEhM6ukPsw/Vs99ITRwfBI/AAAAAAAABRc/TaK7sel52Rc/s400/blogger-image-1470326800.jpg" width="300" /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-fQm-veuleQ8/Vs99HQA9huI/AAAAAAAABRY/SYMa0ApqoWw/s400/blogger-image--248540085.jpg" width="300" /></a><br /><br />Over the holiday break, I found a lump in my breast, a very apparent lump, it was one of those movie-like scenes following a total cliché of a relaxing shower with the music abruptly turns deeper and more neurotic, she finds it, what is it? Why is it there? Whaaat? Could it even be? Naaaah…<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-B6TfBEKThdE/VtDjQ_Gce_I/AAAAAAAABR4/PUltlDuK8TQ/s640/blogger-image-1090559961.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WwZEEug2nGg/VtDjSFWR83I/AAAAAAAABSA/Trzkg_hc7GA/s640/blogger-image-1071263611.jpg" /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-c5UBWS-6414/VtDjTsKeK_I/AAAAAAAABSI/YlZYJrxlZE4/s640/blogger-image-575821383.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>Since I am nursing, it is slightly easier to assume that lumps up there are normal. Also, since it was Christmas and nothing bad EVER happens on Christmas, nor it should EVER, I chalked it up as something with the milk duct, something got smashed, clogged whatchamacallit, all in all, some piping needs unplugging that is all. I kind of forgot about it for a few days, but then every time I showered and felt it, it freaked me out. I was in denial but deep down inside, I knew it wasn’t anything like I had before and I know, because I nursed Simon for 18 months and experienced it all, clogged ducts, mastitis, you name it, and this one, hasn’t felt like anything I have had. I researched online and sort of got more scared as you usually do when you google things like, hard lump, suddenly, is it cancer?… I could not sleep at night, it was getting overwhelming, like the worst nightmare,<i> I have a lump in my breast</i>.<br /><br /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-VtHFza2o7bE/VtDjS8kUD3I/AAAAAAAABSE/X5n6SuC_bFk/s400/blogger-image-473477534.jpg" width="300" /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-YsxVKOedQcE/VtDjRtYPqsI/AAAAAAAABR8/X9ux37bwdbc/s400/blogger-image--1906212057.jpg" width="300" /><br /><br />I started telling my loved ones about it, seeking some sort of peace of mind, trying to share the weight as the rising state of panic was just about to explode in my head. Finally, on Monday after the holidays, the first, very first Monday of the new year, I ventured with a phone to find a doctor, I had to call many places because as a new patient nobody wanted to see me earlier than in two weeks, how freaking ridiculous is that? Like you can die by then or what? I could not wait that long! I mean, healthcare in this country is just sometimes beside me, but I digress… I managed to find one OBgyn in the area and got an appointment on Wednesday, two days later, <i>thank God, </i>it felt a bit reassuring<i>, lets focus on that, she will check it, she will tell me what it is, I just need to wait till Wednesday and all will be over</i>… sort of but not really, she said she thought it was a duct, giving me hope, false hope, it will resolve itself, but just to be cautious she told me to come back in a week.<br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2yBhrPnZkWY/VtHdFIOQKfI/AAAAAAAABSc/_UAq8ylViO8/s640/blogger-image-241830451.jpg" /> <br /><br />And so I did, and it was just the same, no matter what I did, heat, cold, nurse, pump. Still there, still hard, still no pain, still nothing changing, just a lump, right there. The doctor requested an ultrasound, they called in an order for me to a facility that was specializing in female cancer screening, if there was anything to be found, they would find it. I thought it is time to just finish this ordeal with some solid answers.<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qJaveJfVJYE/Vs99JN4VoJI/AAAAAAAABRg/7w4VrZFDj4E/s640/blogger-image-787447720.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qJaveJfVJYE/Vs99JN4VoJI/AAAAAAAABRg/7w4VrZFDj4E/s640/blogger-image-787447720.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-c5UBWS-6414/VtDjTsKeK_I/AAAAAAAABSI/YlZYJrxlZE4/s640/blogger-image-575821383.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> <br />Gladly they had appointments the next day, so I drove there with Leo in tow, cause it is hard not to take him with me for longer than an hour. I changed into that funny open front gown and had an ultrasound done with Leo howling from his car seat, he was so not pleased, but if you don’t have anyone to leave your kids with, you tend to just be okay with screaming babies at your doctor exams. The technician came back after having consulted a doctor and to my dismay, she said they cannot tell much about it, I needed a mammogram … Radiation, big machines, more radiation so no baby with me in the room this time. I had to call Cass to come with Simon in town and get Leo from me, I was taken to the waiting room, trying to nurse Leo beforehand, cause mammogram, <i>I mean</i>, painful… and then it hit me.. what if I am sick, what happens to this little baby of mine, he is so reliant on me, what happens if I am unable to take care of him properly, what happens to Simon, I cannot be anything less because of them, for them I have to be all there, with all I have, all for them, it cannot affect them in any way, they cannot suffer <i>because of it</i>, <i>because of me</i>, I don’t want them to suffer <i>with</i> me, I dont want them to have a sick mother, a depressed fighting a battle of life and death mother… it scared me really, more than I could have imagined, cause I was scared not only for myself, but more so for my babies, for my husband… and then the scariest thoughts of all, imagining them without me… <br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0hDhN-NJXwY/VtJEIuuFzDI/AAAAAAAABTE/07Py-mlW43c/s640/blogger-image-1035448851.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-B6TfBEKThdE/VtDjQ_Gce_I/AAAAAAAABR4/PUltlDuK8TQ/s400/blogger-image-1090559961.jpg" width="300" /><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0hDhN-NJXwY/VtJEIuuFzDI/AAAAAAAABTE/07Py-mlW43c/s400/blogger-image-1035448851.jpg" width="276" /></a><br /><br />Cass came and I quickly handed him Leo, he couldn’t come with me either, the door closed, I went into the dark room… everything was rather surreal, everyone was so nice and as if slightly surprised that I was there, and sort of pitiful, “oh she has such small babies, too bad if something…”. I don’t know how I felt, it was one of the more outer body experiences, but deep down I think I was calm. Until the nurse called me from the waiting room again, to come see the doctor. Everyone was done after the mammogram and the nurse usually informed that everything looked fine, but I was asked inside the room, <i>well that just keeps going well </i>I thought. The doctor was really nice and almost heartwarming-ly reassuring, before she said anything I thought she won’t say anything bad, it just couldn't' be…. Then she started talking and I couldn’t make of it much more than w<i>e see a large mass of tissue</i>, <i>we cannot tell for sure // although it does not look like cancer right now // doesn’t mean it isn’t // some early stages may display itself like this</i>…..<br /><br />I don’t want to make this too long because who cares what really happens minute by minute, I just wanted to show how easily it gets so very serious, all the sudden, like you think it is nothing and then all the sudden it gets soooo serious on you, like what is it life? Whoa?!<br /><br /><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-pvO0ILQEFCU/Vs99J_LXhVI/AAAAAAAABRk/x9-ewiCV5U0/s640/blogger-image-573286829.jpg" /><br /><br />In short, I had to do a biopsy, which is a minor outpatient procedure. I also had three titanium markers shot up to mark the tumor’s growth for the future. So now I have some metal in me, which I think it pretty cool. The recovery wasn’t too bad and I could continue nursing Leo from that side. I had to wait in agony for the results, but they came in two days and the result was that <i>the mass is benign</i> and most likely I won’t even have to remove it. I have follow-up visits and mammograms scheduled, but the news was good! The news had me ecstatic… like I won the lottery… or something far more precious.<br /><br />Often times, I think I have it rough, because the car breaks down, because our condo is worth less now than what we paid for it ten years earlier, because things don’t go as planned, like ever, because doctor bills, because<i>,</i> because…. But then I know it is all so petty, trivial when compared to real struggles. People get bombarded with opposite results to mine daily, their kids do, and their loved ones do. People lose the most precious things, hope, each other, daily, and I am unaffected by this vicious cycle, that evilest evil of the world. I am the lucky one, I am escaping its random, scary crop.<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-c5UBWS-6414/VtDjTsKeK_I/AAAAAAAABSI/YlZYJrxlZE4/s640/blogger-image-575821383.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-c5UBWS-6414/VtDjTsKeK_I/AAAAAAAABSI/YlZYJrxlZE4/s320/blogger-image-575821383.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-53bk_050XEY/VtHdF_CCaNI/AAAAAAAABSg/Q33cgTVJKtU/s640/blogger-image--1763976546.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-53bk_050XEY/VtHdF_CCaNI/AAAAAAAABSg/Q33cgTVJKtU/s320/blogger-image--1763976546.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-c5UBWS-6414/VtDjTsKeK_I/AAAAAAAABSI/YlZYJrxlZE4/s640/blogger-image-575821383.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />And then I wonder, why am I the lucky one, when will I run out of luck? Yes, I am that person who usually thinks upright things end, luck runs out, and good fortune is a fluke, probably a half glass empty, on most days.<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hJQuya9wWLk/VtHdEgBObcI/AAAAAAAABSY/buUBl8aLiLI/s640/blogger-image-663404301.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hJQuya9wWLk/VtHdEgBObcI/AAAAAAAABSY/buUBl8aLiLI/s640/blogger-image-663404301.jpg" /></a><br />But at times like this, I see it so clearly, only fear and facing something horrific opens your eyes so widely. Only when you are at risk of losing everything, you see how much you really have. Oh how much there is to be lost. And then when the fear is gone, when it passes and leaves me alone, I want this fear to be remembered, I want to hold onto it, just a little bit, just enough to remember that very clear picture of what I truly have. It is like a vaccine against ungrateful wants and needs and dread of the daily monotony. I never want to lose that position of gratitude that the fear brings, like catharsis, after the moments of horrific pain, yes pain, because I think fear is pain, it washes you off the fog that clouds your perspective, leaves purer, humbled, grateful.<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--jICk75vDWw/VtHdGoDZVbI/AAAAAAAABSk/2bxVFo80gNI/s640/blogger-image-1478645644.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--jICk75vDWw/VtHdGoDZVbI/AAAAAAAABSk/2bxVFo80gNI/s640/blogger-image-1478645644.jpg" /></a><br />Because I was faced with a much worse version of my reality, filled with uncertainty and insecurity, I want to appreciate my reality more, the way it deserves to be. Everything I have is enough, is plenty, and I am so so lucky to have it, to be around it, with it. I am basking in love every day, I don’t see it sometimes, I don’t appreciate it enough, but I know I am, and I want to remember how scary it is to think I may loose it.<br /><br />credits:<br />stripe leggings on Leo; <a href="http://www.figandhoney.co.uk/product/black-and-white-stripes-leggings-unisex" target="_blank">fig &amp; honey</a> /<a href="http://www.popkidsusa.bigcartel.com/" target="_blank">/</a> watch: <a href="https://www.danielwellington.com/us/women-watches/" target="_blank">DanielWellington //</a> red hats: <a href="https://7amenfant.com/shop/chapka-hat-200/" target="_blank">7amenfant//</a> grid outfits: <a href="http://www.designlifekids.com/babywear/grid-leggings" target="_blank">DLK // </a>wrap: <a href="http://sollybaby.com/" target="_blank">Solly Baby</a> // carrier: <a href="https://mountainbuggy.com/us/Products/juno#.VtRw3-ZSRyE" target="_blank">Mountain Buggy - Juno // </a>snow suit: <a href="http://agiftedbaby.com/collections/kate-quinn-organics/products/organic-cotton-velveteen-bear-footie-jumpsuit-in-slate-and-vanilla" target="_blank">agiftedbaby store //</a> bonnet:&nbsp; <a href="http://radrevolutionkids.com/collections/hoods" target="_blank">Radrevolutionkids&nbsp; //balloon onesie: </a><a href="http://www.popkidsusa.bigcartel.com/" target="_blank">Popkidsusa/</a></div></div>Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-6346846365781324392016-02-08T16:34:00.001-08:002016-02-10T17:50:30.191-08:00{ Finding the time...}<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> 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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/> </w:LatentStyles></xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]><style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style><![endif]--> <br /><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-uRggj1csVt4/VrgH2mI9uDI/AAAAAAAABP4/lWLfHj1pypQ/s640/blogger-image-1938042250.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-uRggj1csVt4/VrgH2mI9uDI/AAAAAAAABP4/lWLfHj1pypQ/s640/blogger-image-1938042250.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />You know the phrase “I don’t have the time”? yeah that one, the one you hear all the time? pun intended of course. The one I am guilty of… I know, you are probably too, but don’t worry, we all use it and abuse it, to the point that it doesn’t even mean anything, whatsoever.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Once you think about it, what does it mean? really? “I don’t have the time” we all have time, time is here, time is now, time is sort of all. the. time. So isn’t it all about what we make of it? How we divide it and organize it? We probably should use “I didn’t make the time for…” or “I made the time for…” to be honest really.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="more"></a><br /><a name='more'></a></div><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="more"></a><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Bzjzac79qP4/VrgH1RhtwPI/AAAAAAAABPw/KHMKvHHaYVg/s640/blogger-image--1192825775.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Bzjzac79qP4/VrgH1RhtwPI/AAAAAAAABPw/KHMKvHHaYVg/s640/blogger-image--1192825775.jpg" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="MsoNormal">I am horrible at organizing things, time included, I waste it in some ways and then run out of it in others. I am the one that is running late, a lot, or running just in time but tells you she was rushing. I mean there are things I will never ever be late for, like airports, important meetings, weddings, funerals, these type of things, but then there are things I am constantly late for, like school drop offs, school pickups, doctor appointments.... I guess I at least prioritize my lateness.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Now let’s think of the coefficients: time being a constant, and everything else being a variable: two kids, new house in a total disarray, preschools, infant nap schedules, laundry, dinner plus everything else that is life: bills, schools, jobs, households etc. etc. how does one find the time for themselves?</div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-X56k5pRy-dI/VrgH3GrJfOI/AAAAAAAABP8/KnkUh1OwavU/s640/blogger-image-1049571059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-X56k5pRy-dI/VrgH3GrJfOI/AAAAAAAABP8/KnkUh1OwavU/s400/blogger-image-1049571059.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-cAbmlJ6e6ec/VrgH3_3VLTI/AAAAAAAABQA/Kgax8vxikwg/s640/blogger-image-1562544845.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-cAbmlJ6e6ec/VrgH3_3VLTI/AAAAAAAABQA/Kgax8vxikwg/s400/blogger-image-1562544845.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zzUKKpO1bkQ/VrgH2AF_9JI/AAAAAAAABP0/s19ivMtF11Y/s640/blogger-image-406944352.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Before I had Simon, I thought I was busy, but I probably wasn't, yes I worked full time, but then I went to the gym, I made dinner, I watched TV, I had time to shop and do everything I wanted for myself, hair, makeup, nails whatever (lair! I never really DID nails).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Then I started grad school, and then I had Simon, then I continued to work, from home, with an infant, then I went to school full-time, with a toddler, then I finished school and then I had Leo. Seems like a lot, like I could say "I don't have time, like ever" and be almost entitled to some truth to it... But lets be honest, I know I do, of course I have the time, we all really do. It is really up to us what we spend it on and how. I know I am just not good with it, sometimes I can feel wasting it away, it bothers me to pits that I am not more conscientious with it…</div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zzUKKpO1bkQ/VrgH2AF_9JI/AAAAAAAABP0/s19ivMtF11Y/s640/blogger-image-406944352.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zzUKKpO1bkQ/VrgH2AF_9JI/AAAAAAAABP0/s19ivMtF11Y/s320/blogger-image-406944352.jpg" width="256" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-z0LpdV4e3cc/Vrkw3IYkelI/AAAAAAAABQ4/WwkueWIzpQU/s640/blogger-image--1084197021.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-z0LpdV4e3cc/Vrkw3IYkelI/AAAAAAAABQ4/WwkueWIzpQU/s320/blogger-image--1084197021.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zzUKKpO1bkQ/VrgH2AF_9JI/AAAAAAAABP0/s19ivMtF11Y/s640/blogger-image-406944352.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />So when 11:00am rolls around and I am still in my pajamas, with nothing done, when it starts to feel like the day will be slipping away, and then I slowly panic that everything is skidding out of my control… and a school-run is in 30 minutes, I turn on emergency mode of getting myself<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>ready in under half an hour… I have not left a house in my pajamas yet. Not that there is anything<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>wrong with that. Mind me, not at all. I just know that I would not feel good about it at all, that I need a physical emblem to mark the start to my day, getting it right, feeling ready. It is to give my day a beginning so it can have a middle and an end.</div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9TIp9-4K5HE/VreQlWaTvKI/AAAAAAAABPc/KkWM1whhKJQ/s640/blogger-image--760818336.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9TIp9-4K5HE/VreQlWaTvKI/AAAAAAAABPc/KkWM1whhKJQ/s640/blogger-image--760818336.jpg" width="480" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />So here it goes, a breakdown of my routine:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Hair</b>: I don’t wash my hair very often, what a confession you say? I actually stretch the wash into 6-7 day intervals, and it is glorious. I use dry shampoo in abundance, to the point that it gives me dandruff sometimes, but then you know, you gain some you lose some. When it gets really, reallyyyy bad I cut back on it and put some coconut oil in my hair, from one extreme to another, that is me… maybe that is why I am recently balding, okay forget it, just kidding not because of that, it is still a valid info, I did just have a baby and they say it is normal to get a little bald afterwards. My go-to style is either flip it or flip it, if one side gets too saggy and overused, flip it to the other one, 80s hair is big now, so make it big. If my hair is too greasy, I have the decency to put it into a pony tail, I started experimenting with a high ponytail like the good ol’days, sometimes it works. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>If anything else fails, top knot, hail to you top knot gods.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Makeup</b>: staying in line with the minimal intervention approach, not due to lack of time like I disclaimed earlier, but due to my tendency of marginal incursion, or possibly lack of skill, mixed with the hassle free approach… I guess what I am trying to say is that I am just not too fancy with any of the makeup stuff, thus I do: lotion ( current favorite, cause super sensitive- Eucedrin redness relief), BB cream, (never enough moisture for my dry, flaky skin), and some loose mineral powder for the ever shiny T-line, then eyebrows, oh the eyebrows, I need to dedicate another post just <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>to them, but I do a quick pencil shaping and then go heavy on brow mascara, brushing it up instead of over and out, if you know what I mean, it gives them a more natural look. Then some eye makeup primer but no eye make-up that is my trick for my Prada eye-bags, finally the last touch, the mascara, and that is it. Done and done, hip, hip hurray.</div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-VvwzjYIpvgY/Vri9e6xvaPI/AAAAAAAABQU/TAccurIuNRY/s640/blogger-image--702165874.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-VvwzjYIpvgY/Vri9e6xvaPI/AAAAAAAABQU/TAccurIuNRY/s640/blogger-image--702165874.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3PBHsvSJAuE/Vri9fznhoHI/AAAAAAAABQY/E9LL1eNvo4I/s640/blogger-image--1272350036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3PBHsvSJAuE/Vri9fznhoHI/AAAAAAAABQY/E9LL1eNvo4I/s640/blogger-image--1272350036.jpg" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Style</b>: again another topic that there should be properly covered throughout this blog, and maybe when I find them time I will skip my writing ramblings and try to do some sort of style post, but for now bar with me for this quick-get-ready tip for the day. The recipe is almost always the same,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>boyfriend jeans, white tee and a warm, cozy sweater, trainers and a long duster coat, all done and ready. Colors simple, no mixing, not too much layering, no pattern pondering.&nbsp; Sometimes to shake it up and be a bit more feminine, when I want to feel particularly fancy, or maybe more bloated (what, did I just say that?!), I will go for a skinny, high-waisted jean,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> lace cami or </span>crop top, then a loose sweatshirt or oversized cardi. Topping it off, on the bottom, throw on some converse or ankle booties, a bomber jacket<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>and out the door you go.</div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-a2A6szSrdqw/VrkoghuJmOI/AAAAAAAABQo/5T258xfNgz8/s640/blogger-image--1590299815.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-a2A6szSrdqw/VrkoghuJmOI/AAAAAAAABQo/5T258xfNgz8/s640/blogger-image--1590299815.jpg" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/23/56/87/2356874580ae2e674702b08eff495200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Accessories</b>: simply put, sunglasses, sunglasses, sunglasses forever, I go for the rule the more the merrier, so I buy them like there is no tomorrow…</div><div class="MsoNormal">Also, simple jewelry, a few stackable rings, can really make you feel all girlie inside. Always go for the classics, a gold chain necklace you can wear with anything and everywhere, and Daniel Wellington classic watch, I had this one on my wish list forever, a staple watch, the mothership of classy and elegant watches. The key again is the minimal effort to put it all together, maximizing the elegant transcendence of each piece. </div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qw1ciP0Jprc/Vri9dTxjohI/AAAAAAAABQQ/8wrFZUtkkl4/s640/blogger-image-425782512.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qw1ciP0Jprc/Vri9dTxjohI/AAAAAAAABQQ/8wrFZUtkkl4/s640/blogger-image-425782512.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />Okay, so this is all the time I have for this and it is probably more time than you wanted to spend on this anyway ;) So over and out, done in under half an hour, happy school runs and grocery shopping xo!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>credits:</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">shoes: <a href="http://www.adidas.com/us/women-stan_smith?cm_mmc=AdieSEM_MSN-_-stan_smith-General-B-BMM-_-General-Stan_Smith-X-Women-_-adidas%20womens%20stan%20smith&amp;cm_mmca1=US&amp;cm_mmca2=Broad&amp;ipd=0&amp;gclid=CNj8nYT25coCFQV4Nwod6BUHSQ&amp;gclsrc=ds" target="_blank">adidas</a>// <a href="http://www.kswiss.com/women/new-arrivals/footwear/irvine-og-93779-954-m" target="_blank">k-swiss</a>// <a href="http://www.zara.com/us/en/trf/shoes/combined-ankle-boots-c358035p3212089.html" target="_blank">zara&nbsp;</a></div><div class="MsoNormal">pants: <a href="http://www.urbanoutfitters.com/urban/catalog/productdetail.jsp?id=32722076&amp;category=W_APP_JEANS" target="_blank">boyfriend</a>// <a href="http://us.topshop.com/en/tsus/product/clothing-70483/jeans-4593087/moto-super-rip-jamie-jeans-5212112?bi=0&amp;ps=20" target="_blank">high-waist</a></div><div class="MsoNormal">tops: <a href="https://www.madewell.com/madewell_category/TEESANDMORE/shortsleeve/PRDOVR~C0984/C0984.jsp?color_name=OPTIC%20WHITE&amp;styles=C0984-WT0103&amp;color_name=OPTIC%20WHITE&amp;styles=C0984-WT0103" target="_blank">tee</a> // <a href="http://www.hm.com/us/product/38058?article=38058-A" target="_blank">cami</a></div><div class="MsoNormal">Accessories: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Diamond-Candy-Sunglasses-Protection-Polarized/dp/B00XLAFYIO/ref=pd_sim_sbs_309_12?ie=UTF8&amp;dpID=51-nA0NzlyL&amp;dpSrc=sims&amp;preST=_AC_UL200_SR133%2C200_&amp;refRID=1A7GR743Y791MPQPY4EK" target="_blank">sunglasses</a> // watch c/o <a href="https://www.danielwellington.com/us/classic-sheffield-lady" target="_blank">DanielleWellington </a>-<b> order by February 29th with code "anja_mari" to get 15% off your purchase.</b></div>Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-66929392397360378222015-12-30T06:00:00.000-08:002016-01-01T07:30:35.680-08:00{ Leo Grey. The birth story. }<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-I3rBJvVI3KM/Vn3xeZp2I8I/AAAAAAAABM0/bCVgjSmd6Hw/s640/blogger-image-635722732.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-I3rBJvVI3KM/Vn3xeZp2I8I/AAAAAAAABM0/bCVgjSmd6Hw/s640/blogger-image-635722732.jpg" /></a></div><br /><br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> 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gte mso 10]><style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style><![endif]--> <br />I have been writing this story for a long, long time, before it even really begun. We mothers always do, we write stories, especially ones like these. We let our minds race into the future and play out scenarios of life events we are anticipating. I had so many versions of this story ready, before it really begun, but when it finally did, it was nothing like I imagined, cause it never is, life is wonderful or cruel that way, but at least it keeps us surprised every time.<br /><br /><a name='more'></a><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-cSDBRXSItNU/VoCqy2joMFI/AAAAAAAABOc/7ho5XeaeBOg/s640/blogger-image-6885215.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-cSDBRXSItNU/VoCqy2joMFI/AAAAAAAABOc/7ho5XeaeBOg/s640/blogger-image-6885215.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><br /><br />So the wait... I even wrote a post about the wait... the more I waited, the more impatient I was getting for this whole story to be written, I wanted it to finally materialize into these words that I am writing now. It is a story that everyone knows the ending of, but at the time I couldn’t really see it, or imagine it. Now, with the perspective of time, knowing every detail of it, arriving at its glorious end that set my life into the new beginning, I can tell it is a great story, a long one for sure but these stories, the ones that transform one's life forever usually are… <br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-HhZe_rwNW0M/VnrtrXhuyFI/AAAAAAAABLc/L7ysWe-irVg/s640/blogger-image--577357756.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-HhZe_rwNW0M/VnrtrXhuyFI/AAAAAAAABLc/L7ysWe-irVg/s640/blogger-image--577357756.jpg" /></a></div><br /><br />Knowing the end, I want to tell the story from the beginning, mostly so I can remember it years from now. And maybe for Leo, who may be just crazy enough to want to read it one day.... so onto the story, please read at your own discretion.<br /><br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>After I had reached the 39th week, I remember telling Cass that I would like the baby to have a cool birth date, like Simon does, one easy to remember, like Simon's. So initially, I wanted him to be born on 9/8 cause it descends, then I really wanted the 9/9 because it would be just the coolest like that, or 9/10 because it is consecutive, yet for some reason I sort of felt like it would happen on 9/11… I guess this way it can be remembered forever. Maybe it is not the happiest of dates, not like Simon’s with fireworks and parties, but a date with meaning, a date that is ready for its happy endings and new beginnings. Therefore, on the night of the eleventh, when the new date just rolled onto the calendars, a few minutes after midnight, I woke up with pains that were unlike any pain I ever felt. I knew, I was in real labor this time even though with Simon I never really felt it being induced. I welcomed them with excitement and curiosity. It was exhilarating to explore this new path of giving life, and this time just letting my own body lead the way. With Simon, I was scared and worried, my water broke early and the doctors feared of an infection and baby going into distress etc., there was no time for my body to do it, it had to be helped. This time it was doing it, it knew how! I was so happy and almost proud.<br /><br />After about an hour of frequent and strengthening contractions I called my midwife. I told her what was happening and she said that since I needed the antibiotic to be administered in two doses two hours before I deliver and it is my second child, I could probably start getting ready and get to the hospital. By the time we packed and woke up my sister to tell her what is happening, it was after 2am. She moved to our bed for when Simon wakes up, so he would not freak out that nobody was there. My mind was at peace having her there, for some reason I knew I would labor at night and driving him in the middle of the night anywhere was causing me stress and worry. But yeah, sisters, they sort of make all that disappear and save the day or night when we need them to.<br /><br />We drove through the quiet streets of Chicago, 2:00am is probably the only time when it is that quiet, when finally everyone went to bed and nobody got up quite yet. I felt a certain unity with the city; it was close to me and my baby boy, there, just for us, not distracted by much that wasn't going on. The night was warm yet the air felt brisk, I wore a black dress, a jean jacket, socks and birks, just as a hipster mom would, that, or a frumpy mom in labor going to the hospital would, you choose which that was. We parked near the hospital like royalty cause there was all the street parking in the world at this ungodly hour. We buzzed quietly into the hospital since reception desk was closed. After giving birth to Simon in the hospital downtown, one pretty huge one with its beaming lights and multi-level wards, this noiselessness was almost surprising, this hospital was much smaller and closer to home and obviously far less busy... We entered a dark lobby and went to the birthing center on the third floor, we had to be buzzed in again and someone was to meet us to fill out paper work for admissions. After an half an hour, my wrist band, hospital gown and I walked into the "waiting room" room. I shared it with another woman in labor, she was waiting to be admitted too, I could hear her baby on the monitor, and gosh it hit me... that sound, that one of the kind sound of the horses racing underground, and all the excitement for the joy of what was about to happen. All them feelings from when I was in labor with Simon became so close again and that sound, that sound is just the best sound there is in the hospital to be heard.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kykyCOrW2Zw/VoAWBIKmjRI/AAAAAAAABNM/H1ipfRrAAzI/s640/blogger-image-1004602444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RErCRVP84YQ/VnrtsreghbI/AAAAAAAABLs/vdto13cArPU/s400/blogger-image--402024431.jpg" width="300" /><img border="0" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kykyCOrW2Zw/VoAWBIKmjRI/AAAAAAAABNM/H1ipfRrAAzI/s400/blogger-image-1004602444.jpg" width="267" /></a></div><br />Since I was with the midwives, I wasn’t hooked up to the monitors just yet, it was all about not constraining my movements, which I was almost bummed about, because I longed for some sort of contact with this baby I was about to meet. By then my contractions were strong enough I had to breathe through them and make those silly, long pauses when talking, but it wasn't painful yet. The nurse asked me a bunch of questions, Cass went onto another bed that freed up as the woman was admitted to take a nap, and we just waited for the midwife, it was after 3:00 am. I called my parents on facetime to let them know, my mom cried a little and said she would pray for me and for that everything goes well and would spread the news around and tell everyone else to pray for me too, I said thank you, because it is always comforting when someone else is doing the praying for you too.&nbsp; In the middle of our chat my midwife came, she was ready to examine me, so was I. I must say it was not the most pleasant of exams, I don't know why it hurt thaaat bad, was I already tensing up? does it always hurt so bad when you are in labor? My exams hurt with Simon, but again I was on Pitocin, so everything hurt so damn bad…&nbsp; <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">I think that </span>the exam planted a very deceitful thought in my head, one starting its work against me, I started to ask myself if I was already so uncomfortable people touching me, how was I to push a cabbage head out from that very spot... but luckily my “worry about that later thought” kicked in... I sometimes am lucky to have that turn on, thus I could happily go back to my bouncing on the birth ball happy place, after all I was a 4cm dilated and 70% effaced and I was admitted.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QYF0SB__r8c/Vnrtta71eNI/AAAAAAAABL0/C-U982r_Jd8/s640/blogger-image-83269141.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QYF0SB__r8c/Vnrtta71eNI/AAAAAAAABL0/C-U982r_Jd8/s640/blogger-image-83269141.jpg" /></a></div><br />We had to wait for the Labor and Delivery unit to be cleaned out cause apparently it wasn't as calm as it looked and all units were being used and other people were having babies, can one believe that? so we spent another half an hour just waiting to be transferred down the hall where the official birthing games were taking place.<br /><br />When we did, we arrived at the "corner office" what I called it, a large room but with an awkward layout, the bed was diagonally across the room that looped, but I kind of liked it, the birthing stage was set and ready, like an ancient Greek theater in its half circle design. At that point, I had quite regular and strong contractions but still manageable, I turned on TV and caught the early news shows, Cass went to sleep and I kept facetiming and messaging friends and family, by the time the Today show got on, I had to start focusing on each contraction as they were getting more and more painful. I decided to take a bath to relax a little as lack of sleep and tiredness were starting to catch up with me. I opened the faucet with hot water, cause I like my water hot, hot until my skin turns red and started filling out the bathtub. I got in and started to relax, the warmth soothed the tensed muscles from the contractions and slowed down the progressing exhaustion. When the bathtub filled up I tried to close the faucet like I normally would, and everyone else would, but it would not move an inch and water started to over-flood... <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what a sudden turn of relaxing events? how wonderfully soothing this turned out to be? Where is my zen?</i>...I quickly took out the plug, put on a robe and asked Cass to use his manly hands to turn it off for me. After all, I mean, maybe the labor took all my arm strength away already? So he woke up and came to save me but he couldn't turn it either, it was stuck! we called the nurse, she said it had happened before and she would send someone over to fix it and for now <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">we would just have to enjoy the waterfalls</i>....how wonderfully relaxing did that sound? Painfully annoying for someone with OCD, such as myself... I mean, white noise CDs and all, but it was so wastefully stupid, all this water... and giving me a headache. Finally, the whole not sleeping all night and hitting the 10:30 sleep crashing zone caught up with me and I got a migraine, contractions were getting stronger and stronger and my body weaker and weaker, at that point I was so tired I couldn't move much but the pain felt pretty corrupt if holding still.<br /><br />And so I arrived at this place when your body sends you into a limbo of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing feels comfortable</i>, you want to relax but can’t, you want to rest your head but can’t, you just want to close your eyes for ten minutes but can't... it started to feel super real.<br /><br />Also at that point the midwife on call has changed and now it was Rachel, a midwife that confirmed my pregnancy, for some reason it made everything more special and nicely tided together, also I just really liked her, thus it sort of elevated my weakening spirit that it would be her delivering with me.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-oEDRzAjsrjA/VnrtuAMWfrI/AAAAAAAABL8/HJNlcd8ZCKY/s640/blogger-image-1803461103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-oEDRzAjsrjA/VnrtuAMWfrI/AAAAAAAABL8/HJNlcd8ZCKY/s640/blogger-image-1803461103.jpg" /></a></div><br />She decided that since it has been practically 7 hours since I was admitted and getting really uncomfortable, it was time to check me again, I was really hoping to hear that the end is near and this whole thing would be over in an hour or so... after all I kept hearing those promising, reassuring stories of other women birthing their second babies, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">it happens fast, they come furiously quick, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>wont have much time to think of an epidural, someone was done in two hours, she/he came out with one push etc. etc</i>. After how long my labor was with Simon (27 hours total) I was really hoping, for once, just this once that one of these sweet stories would also come true for me. They never do, not for me, I hear them all the time about everything and they never do, but this time<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">, please this time the odds have to be in my favor, I am so athletic, active till the very last day, labored a little for a week straight before, admitted at four, I should be at nine by now?! I better be! because maybe I can do this for an hour or so, but I am getting so tireeeerd, an hour max, longer I may just die</i>.... I lay on the bed, it was hard to keep still with each contraction that had barely any breaks in between, the exam was even more painful and made me worried even more about the whole ordeal…. But all that aside, the most painful part was the verdict, I was barely at seven, the cervix still hard and high, baby high, probably three more hours of this, if I am lucky, cause 4 hours got me only up 3cm, or 2.5 if we were conservative! <br /><br />This broke me, any sliver of confidence I managed to scramble, any attempt at the happy go lucky outlook vanished, I was defeated… the worst time to hear the bad news is in transition, in transition you are so tired, and I was sooooo tired, you don't see the end of the pain, 5 minutes may as well be a million lighting years, I was paralyzed, conquest by pain. At that point I was conveyed to bed, curling in discomfort, crying. I cried that I won’t be able to do it for three more hours and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">if by some miracle I would, I would have no strength left for any of that pushing part</i>… they asked me if I want to walk around and see how it felt, I said I cannot cause I was too weak…<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v0frzoQxHnY/Vnrx2j7nQ7I/AAAAAAAABMI/mB4F8iok8w4/s640/blogger-image-488845849.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v0frzoQxHnY/Vnrx2j7nQ7I/AAAAAAAABMI/mB4F8iok8w4/s640/blogger-image-488845849.jpg" /></a></div><br />I felt too weak, my mental weakness and my physical weakness united in coalition against me, and my body felt like it weighted a million pounds, grounding me in non-movement, paralyzed in throbbing stillness. Two more contractions, 10 minutes, maybe 30, I don't know, time stood still, I bawled that I couldn’t do this, that I am giving up, that I was done and I wanted an epidural. The nurse said she would call an anesthesiologist to see me, it was sometime after 11:00am, another 10, 15, 20 minutes later, no sight of anesthesiologist and that running water! Dear Lord, I felt like I am in some underwater abyss and there is no help for me, and that I would never have this baby,&nbsp;<i>I am just not able to stand this pain any longer</i>, I was close to passing out, I was panicking. I told Cass to call again for the anesthesiologist. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span><br /><br />Finally, 40 minutes after the request and two hours of the bathroom water STILL running, the doctor finally showed up, she started her procedures, asked me how far along I was to which I responded that 40 minutes ago I was merely a seven, even though by now I should be close to 8, but with my pace it was probably just two milliliters. I told her that my body wanted to torture me,&nbsp; and was not trying to speed things up but rather simply kill me. I could barely stand still for her while the needle kept sliding, she kept starting over probably at least five times, saying that I have bony vertebra and they are close together, with little room for the drip to go in, she also was getting really irritated by out Niagara falls in the bathroom and finally stopped the needle attempts and said she could not work like this. She picked up the phone and strongly and powerfully with this- I have worked here for years and everyone listens to me- tone, she requested immediate maintenance in my room concluding briefly "be here in two minutes, I cannot work like this". I don't remember when they came and fixed it, cause sitting still through each double peeking contraction was taking all I had, I was not really there, I was someplace else, my body wanted to twist in pain, my mind trying to calm it down, I desperately trying to escape my body to escape the pain, being away from everything....when the water stopped and she finally got the needle in, I woke up, all the sudden the contractions turned into a vibrating clench of my belly muscle, I could feel them, but not how they were treating my uterus.&nbsp; Just minutes before they were burning with hot iron, now they felt like an orchestra of muscles shrinking and expanding rhythmically, like a blossom in the high speed video. I had this wonderful visualization that they tell you to try in all the books, I had a book-like birthing visualization! Ha! finally, how ironic is that...<i> I am just not made for this, I guess</i>, I sat there on my bed all numbed to finally start thinking of what is happening, and then it hit me, <i>I am not made for this, I am broken, I am weak, something is failing me, why is it so long and so hard and there is so little progress, why am I not a birthing goddess? Why am I not empowered but defeated, am I a whimsy, am I not as strong as billions of other women, am I weakly willed, am I too comfortable, too easy with myself? I am worse, I am less, I am not as good nor brave? Am I just feeble and pathetic?... </i><br /><br />With Simon I had an excuse for a medicated birth, my shield against the "I lost the labor battle", with Simon I was fully induced, contractions were artificially evoked by the Pitocin drip, of course I didn't stand a chance with their strength and their 16 hour IV marathon, I made it to seven centimeters then and felt like a hero, that was my reason, I couldn't, I didn't have to feel guilty, hardly ever anyone that is induced can do it all drug-free. So it was okay, sort of, but I felt like my will wasn’t tested and graded so poorly, because there were what ifs, like if it turned differently, on my own, I would be a champ...<br /><br />And then this time... <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>this time, what was my excuse? it was all orchestrated by <b>my body</b>, my body I could not win with, it failed me this time too, just differently or I failed my body...and then I cried, I cried that I can never just turn on that womanhood on, that power, where is it when I need it, where is it? why can I be like other women? why is everything womanhood such a struggle for me, why can’t I measure up?..<br /><br />The anesthesiologist was about to leave the room, but she pitied my whimsy face and gave me a pity prep talk, she told me that most likely if I try the third time, it will be as long and as painful, just like this, she told me that because of women like me they started doing what they are doing, for the women that want to do it but their bodies are just built a certain way that makes it harder. She told me that in the days without the epidural women like me would pass out during labor from the amount of pain and probably never have many kids at all, not every woman labors like a victor, we have bodies built differently and for some the way it happens is just prolonged and painful and I really should just get over it… I made it this far, I wanted to do it without but it was too hard, end of story, there was no way anything would slow down or cause complications - I did my best - so I should stop, because nobody gets a star for this whole thing anyway... I listened to her yet did not really listen, I felt like a looser, and weakling and I was sort of angry with myself but I was also so exhausted, too tired to be angry long… <i>I will destroy you, you pathetic fool some other time, now I should think ahead and get some rest</i>.... The whole luxury of the epidural was for me to rest, to sleep, oh to sleep! after all it was half past noon already and it has been 12 hours I have been awake, birthing. Cass went out to get some lunch and I just lay there, breathing, tuning into those contractions, now that the pain was taken away from them, I could admire their power, admire them like a member of a curious audience, without the noise of the battle to survive them, I could hear their rhythm and feel their beauty, their wave-like music.<br /><br />Maybe ten minutes into this peaceful slumber, finally in tune with my blooming body, I felt a sudden tick, something broke inside of me as a tremendous amount of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>pressure just unloaded, the water broke... <i>so much of my relaxation with the warm blanket...&nbsp; I need to call the nurse to help me clean this up... where the heck is the button when you need it?</i><br /><br />And then I started to feel like pushing, it was a sudden pressure and my body was telling me to just do it, but what did it know? I didn't trust it, my body didn't know anything, <i>it just can't be, I was to sleep for two hours, that was the point of this, wasn't it? so I can rest. I am paying for this a few hundred bucks and I am not getting a natural labor star, may as well freaking rest! what is going on? Why now? Why not in two hours?</i><br /><br />&nbsp;And then my midwife came to check on me, she cleaned the mess and checked what was really going on, she said <i>yup, there is a head there waiting, all loaded up ready to go, he has some dark hair... now I have to go and get ready so wait and DON'T PUSH!</i> I texted Cass, told him to get it to go and come back, drop his roll and his spoon, cause he had a sudden fast-forward event to tend to. The next few minutes were a blur, people started coming in and out, setting things up and I could not believe it was actually happening, it is done, already, I got here, I made it here, again!? maybe I could have waited with the epidural? or maybe I let my body finally take over and open up from all the compressing paralysis the pain was doing to it, who knows, from the perspective of time, I think it was all what it was meant to be.<br /><br />So I was laying there, all excited that it would soon be over, my heart elated at the thought of what was coming next, the labor part was over, the hard part, the part I don't get, the part I fail at, the part my body struggled with, but now, it was the best part, the delivery part, my favorite part, my part, when I know what I am doing, when my body works well, the part that ends in the most rewarding way possible, the part with the miracle unfolding...<br /><br />Minutes have passed and it was time for the first push, <i>do I remember how to do this? don’t worry everyone, I am good at this, I got Simon out in 19 minutes total, okay! Lets do this! I think this is how it goes.... Nope, oh wait, nope, this time it feels like moving a brick wall. </i><br /><br />And so it began, the wait for a strong contraction and pushing on it only to go back to where I started. He was big… the midwife was very encouraging and coaching me through each contraction, Cass reminding me that I know how to do this, that we did this before, that we were good at it, and this time it would be just as amazing... With that around,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I managed to do a few good pushes, like a pushing pro should, since I claimed that title, I needed to do its justice.<br /><br />Then, Rachel told me that on the next one we should get him out, but it had to be a very big one, cause he is a big one...a very big one. So we waited out a few milder contractions and I gathered my breath. Somewhere in the meantime, the room filled with people, the NICU team, someone told me that they would stay in there only until they make sure the baby was okay, if he was okay they would leave and leave us to our thing. I don't remember this being a case with Simon, maybe this hospital had different procedures or maybe Rachel wanted them in "just in case", after all he was pretty BIG and apparently big ones can cause trouble.<br /><br />And so I pushed with all I had, still didn’t quite feel like he was coming out, <i>it is okay, we should try the next one the same way again</i>, and so I pushed again, but that time, it made history...<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-i8RvHMrYsEM/VoF_p11KsbI/AAAAAAAABO0/bmZS8Nh5LjI/s640/blogger-image--1653008753.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-i8RvHMrYsEM/VoF_p11KsbI/AAAAAAAABO0/bmZS8Nh5LjI/s640/blogger-image--1653008753.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br />...that moment when it feels like an eternity and a nanosecond all at the same time. When the world is frantically spinning and then goes into slow motion, I hear a cry, I see HIM. He is here, my eyes trace him as if there is nothing else around, his face looks familiar, he is mine, he is ours. I have seen this newborn face before, in his brother before him, in that moment before him. And suddenly, I am taken aback to the moment I met Simon and in that very moment I am also meeting Leo. I feel united, I felt the extension of my motherhood, happening that very moment... the second time, yet just like the first time... familiar, and so unique, I have been in this love-drunk state before as if I have never left it...&nbsp; it is unexplainable really, like unexplainable is giving birth to a beating heart, two beating hearts.<br /><br />These seconds during the delivery are the Moment of Beating Hearts, mine, Simon's, Leo's, essence of family in the making, of my personal mankind, the essence of unity, of motherhood.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yJ786QZZOHw/VoCqxN0J-fI/AAAAAAAABOE/vwksAyqoRhA/s640/blogger-image-1303317244.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yJ786QZZOHw/VoCqxN0J-fI/AAAAAAAABOE/vwksAyqoRhA/s640/blogger-image-1303317244.jpg" /></a></div><b><br /></b>They put his body onto mine. He is so big and squishy and warm and fuzzy, he feels heavy laying on my chest, he is the most gorgeous, divine, miraculous thing to see and smell, he is mine. The possessory instinct in a woman right after the delivery must reach a gazillion percent units over the regular quota. HE IS MINE! People keep touching him when he is just lying there on my chest, calming down from his first cry.<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hgV4F3PW6fc/VoCqyQL3g5I/AAAAAAAABOU/YWZvT7fPwmk/s640/blogger-image-1808001550.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hgV4F3PW6fc/VoCqyQL3g5I/AAAAAAAABOU/YWZvT7fPwmk/s640/blogger-image-1808001550.jpg" /></a><br /><br />I am holding my breath, first conscious thought that finally materializes after this outer body experience, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is he okay</i>? it seems like he is, checks come positive and he is still on my chest, nobody is taking him away, he still is there, <i>Thank GOD</i>, I am so happy. Maybe two minutes maybe a million later, I don’t know, the room suddenly emptied, it was just Cass and I and the midwife, finishing up all that delivery business. The baby boy is rooting, he latches on immediately and eats, we are both calm and so so so ecstatic, I feel like I am on a high, or at least a high should feel just like that. We are together, like we were but different, he is here, I can touch him, he is so soft and warm. His body feels different from the outside, yet there is still something so familiar about it and his movements, I am trying to savor it because I know with each minute of us separated that deep and close connection evaporates, with each breath he takes independently, he will feel less familiar and my body will forget how it was to have him living inside...<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-HR1_ioiT7Po/Vnrx3raWXYI/AAAAAAAABMY/-hGKpGZIlxM/s640/blogger-image-98513860.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-HR1_ioiT7Po/Vnrx3raWXYI/AAAAAAAABMY/-hGKpGZIlxM/s640/blogger-image-98513860.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><br /><br />I think we stayed like this for a long while, we chatted with Rachel about what had happened,we all knew he was big, but didn't expect him to be that big. She mentioned that he got stuck with his shoulder and that is why it was so hard to get him out but I still did good and I can claim that I am a good pusher all I want, she said that, really, at least I am giving myself that. She had to pull him abruptly and there was more stitching to do so she did that for a while...When she was finally done, we wanted to know how big he actually was, the nurse was called to clean him up and weigh him,&nbsp; 9lbs 15 oz., one ounce short of 10 pounds, maybe if he didn’t poo when they were cleaning him, he would be 10 pounds officially. I got this 10 pounder out in under 50 minutes, so at least here, I somewhat feel proud of my performance.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ByhfukLqBww/VoAWAPr3wQI/AAAAAAAABNE/c_-TH9ynXKc/s640/blogger-image-808043479.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ByhfukLqBww/VoAWAPr3wQI/AAAAAAAABNE/c_-TH9ynXKc/s640/blogger-image-808043479.jpg" /></a></div><br />So this is where this story sort of ends, it is too long anyway and probably filled with details even I will be skimming through. But the day didn’t really end there for me.<br /><br />If you are still around there is some more quasi medical rambling. Birthing an almost 10 lbs worth of baby bears it consequences, so the story sort of continues later into the night and the next day.<br /><br />The onset of the consequences happened when my sister and Simon came to meet Leo, they visited us still in the Labor and Delivery unit as we waited for the room in the maternity ward. I was already getting up as the epidural I had was the mastery of all epidurals and even though I didn't feel the pain, I wasn't numb too much and after 30 minutes, I was able to stand on my feet again and use the bathroom.<br /><br />&nbsp;<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-T3rfZmtQ8a4/VoCqzpmBpSI/AAAAAAAABOg/9t3fDoDouvE/s640/blogger-image-320664994.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-T3rfZmtQ8a4/VoCqzpmBpSI/AAAAAAAABOg/9t3fDoDouvE/s640/blogger-image-320664994.jpg" /></a><br /><br />It was one of the happiest moments to see Simon meet Leo, he did so good, he was born to be a big brother to him but the moments of happy were disrupted by a sudden gush of blood, my blood… I almost fainted and someone quickly pushed me onto the bed, I think it was Cass, he called the nurse and Rachel also showed up immediately, they escorted Simon and my sister out and he seemed so scared and confused, it broke my fainting heart. I got hooked up to the oxygen monitor but the levels were good, so people stopped rushing, someone asked me if I am an athlete, I replied all confused that I did all sorts of sports but no athlete here, I was however pretty active, but nothing special…but I guess even a little does show in one’s blood stream. They did a bunch of medical stuff to me that I don’t even recall, and this story is not a Wikipedia for postpartum hemorrhage. Later that night it happened again and then again the next morning. During it all, my body went into some shock and was shaking uncontrollably when I was lying in bed with Leo, it scared us both… I felt so cold and restless, so the nurse brought me many hot blankets and ensured it was just my body reacting to the medicine I got for the bleeding. All in all, I survived, I was okay, it wasn't as easyy as it could have been, as I naively hoped for. I wasn’t looking like I came back from a brisk run, more like wasted from a New York Marathon, but I made it through, I am not made to birth quickly nor is it easy on my body, but that toll it takes is welcomed, I welcome it with pride and joy. It is like licking the wounds after a won fight, even the wounds are precious.<br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-T3rfZmtQ8a4/VoCqzpmBpSI/AAAAAAAABOg/9t3fDoDouvE/s640/blogger-image-320664994.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>Leo was born on Friday, September 11 at 1:55pm, we left the hospital to go home on Sunday at 11:55am. And these three days will forever be my greatest adventure combined with the three days back in January of 2012. I am not sure if I get to experience this again, if it is meant for me to venture onto this adventure again, I am sure it will be just as heavenly and magical in its imperfect painful and surprising ways. and I will be honored to do it. Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-66186542521280888202015-11-05T17:47:00.001-08:002015-11-08T18:45:23.899-08:00{ you will always have a piece of my heart Chicago }<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8CtPC14xAl0/VjnpQiHIWRI/AAAAAAAABJU/c8pfSo6MJJI/s640/blogger-image--674573437.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8CtPC14xAl0/VjnpQiHIWRI/AAAAAAAABJU/c8pfSo6MJJI/s1600/blogger-image--674573437.jpg" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div>We are moving. We are leaving Chicago for good. In two weeks, we won't be calling Chicago our home anymore. We will be from Boston, from Massachusetts. Different zip code, different phone number, different airport abbreviation, even different store chains. It feels surreal, it feels like I am talking about the life of someone else, but it also feels exciting, exhilarating and liberating.<br /><br /><a name='more'></a><br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RJxCJOJSvaI/VjwC9SyRPOI/AAAAAAAABKQ/phpk-Fybk4s/s640/blogger-image-438148422.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RJxCJOJSvaI/VjwC9SyRPOI/AAAAAAAABKQ/phpk-Fybk4s/s1600/blogger-image-438148422.jpg" /></a> <br /><br /><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div></div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-mfnBHqI74oo/VjwC8S2pUJI/AAAAAAAABKI/NMl9yZ89rK4/s640/blogger-image--197978985.jpg"><img border="0" class="img1" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-mfnBHqI74oo/VjwC8S2pUJI/AAAAAAAABKI/NMl9yZ89rK4/s400/blogger-image--197978985.jpg" width="325" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-s84OiKQ3llA/VjwC7VtOYxI/AAAAAAAABKA/2k-3uVnPsCY/s640/blogger-image--1300742936.jpg"><img border="0" class="img2" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-s84OiKQ3llA/VjwC7VtOYxI/AAAAAAAABKA/2k-3uVnPsCY/s640/blogger-image--1300742936.jpg" /></a> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div><br />We have been brewing with this decision for a while, but it wasn't until Cass started to interview for his dream job that we decided we would go wherever it takes. When an offer came from Boston, we didn't hesitate for long. I wanted him to do it, it was his time, his moment to pursue his advancement. I have just finished mine and he was there by my side all the war through it. I went to grad school for three years, with a baby at home, he never once questioned my choices, supported me in times of crisis and "I cannot do it" moments, when he had to repeatedly assure me that "yes I could". He took care of everything when I wasn't home or had to study, he was there for me, now it is my turn to be there for him.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Zg7h_-4suGE/VjwC6rbIcdI/AAAAAAAABJ4/Bm_kOiJMJoM/s640/blogger-image--855965115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Zg7h_-4suGE/VjwC6rbIcdI/AAAAAAAABJ4/Bm_kOiJMJoM/s1600/blogger-image--855965115.jpg" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>So we are going to Boston and I am completely calm about it... Unusually calm which is unusual for me. Of course I am stressing over some of it, but more likely the whole thing I am still suppressing. Maybe I am worried that it will hurt, and I don't want to hurt over these type of things anymore, I don't want to mourn Chicago like I did Warsaw, I don't want to ponder me not being here, I don't want to think about what I leave behind and what will I miss about it.</div><div>Once you de-root yourself for the first time, you desperately seek another soil to put those roots back in, to let them feel the ground again and nourish their shriveled identity. Chicago was my first soil, I desperately wanted it to be my home, to feel like I am from here and when asked "where is home" to answer with confidence "Chicago". But also, once you de-root yourself, once you yank your rooted origins, soul and identity out of place, take them far from where they grew for a long time, the next soil doesn't hold you as tightly, you feel like the roots are weaker, closer to the surface and more mobile. I have never felt like Chicago is forever, we never had that kind of relationship, I loved it, I cherished it but it never won my soul over for eternity.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7MbZCt6vSH4/VjnpOMm-NRI/AAAAAAAABI8/t-_Tz8uBXCY/s640/blogger-image-821274192.jpg"><img border="0" class="img1" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7MbZCt6vSH4/VjnpOMm-NRI/AAAAAAAABI8/t-_Tz8uBXCY/s640/blogger-image-821274192.jpg" /></a><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div><br />Yet, I feel like a part of me will stay here when I am gone, I have been here almost a decade, this city witnessed me growing up from a little girl that thought is an adult, to an adult that feels like a little girl, w metamorphosis of sorts. The city's widespread horizon sheltered the birth of my two sons, my two Chicago Grey boys. It is stamped into their files as the "place of birth" forever. I don't know about Leo, but Simon will have Chicago running through his veins wherever he goes, he knows this city already, he claimed it as his, his roots are here. And that is the only thing I am worried the most about, is how will he do when we transplant him this early. will it make him richer? will it make him poorer? will he feel weaker in his new soil later on? God I hope he will do fine. I hope I will too, but for now we can just keep one foot in front of the other and see what the future holds. </div><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-tNLqROXg9x0/VjnpP6yavLI/AAAAAAAABJM/H5VB2VWRb0Y/s640/blogger-image-1282360671.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-tNLqROXg9x0/VjnpP6yavLI/AAAAAAAABJM/H5VB2VWRb0Y/s640/blogger-image-1282360671.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>One thing is certain, we will miss you Chicago, thank you for being such a good sport, even your winters and all, you were beautiful and taught us everything we know about life as a family, we appreciate all the lessons, all the awards and bonuses and all the kicks in the butt and spits in the face. You were a dream regardless and we love you as you are, forever. </div><br /><br />Take us out Frank! you say the rest.....<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/2N9SPvtZ6pE/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/2N9SPvtZ6pE?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div><br />Credits: Mom Bun Life shirt c/o <a href="http://www.heartsandkrafts.com/">www.heartsandkrafts.com</a><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Simon's shark pants: <a href="http://www.gardnerandthegang.com/" target="_blank">Gardnerandthegang</a></div>Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-79258656710798499112015-10-14T17:21:00.004-07:002015-10-15T17:59:09.779-07:00{ a month with Leo Grey }<div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zjN9lYWUkjs/Vh7nIMskOKI/AAAAAAAABG4/aeZFkb_rdxA/s640/blogger-image-208667270.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zjN9lYWUkjs/Vh7nIMskOKI/AAAAAAAABG4/aeZFkb_rdxA/s640/blogger-image-208667270.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Hello world, meet Leo Grey, it has been four weeks that he spent on the other side. The shortest 28 days and un-proportionally long 28 nights. Leo came three days before his due date, officially closing the marathon of me being a million months pregnant. He came at a whooping weight of 9lbs 15oz which translates to 4,508g, broke all the family records on record and a few other things but about that later. <br /><br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="more"></a></div><div><a name='more'></a><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_Z8KXmOD4OY/Vh7Acha--UI/AAAAAAAABF4/qPLPXqRv_SI/s640/blogger-image--115704029.jpg"><img border="0" class="img1" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_Z8KXmOD4OY/Vh7Acha--UI/AAAAAAAABF4/qPLPXqRv_SI/s640/blogger-image--115704029.jpg" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-FTny-WM01M4/Vh7AeEWnw3I/AAAAAAAABGI/S8aHAugJ820/s640/blogger-image--1512663530.jpg"><img border="0" class="img2" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-FTny-WM01M4/Vh7AeEWnw3I/AAAAAAAABGI/S8aHAugJ820/s640/blogger-image--1512663530.jpg" /></a> </div><div>He looked much more mature and heftier but yet very much like his older brother, he still does and I hope he will continue to cause his brother is rather awfully cute.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-pNJgW4yQvWk/ViABJz1xszI/AAAAAAAABIY/_FjOUjfxp6U/s640/blogger-image--190477540.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-pNJgW4yQvWk/ViABJz1xszI/AAAAAAAABIY/_FjOUjfxp6U/s640/blogger-image--190477540.jpg" /></a></div><br /></div><div>Sometimes, when I feed him with dimmed lights, I look down at his sleepy face and I see Simon, it takes me back in time and I cannot quite figure out which baby I am really holding, I know it sounds awful but it is rather a metaphysical experience... it is surreal, I know it is Leo but it also brings back Simon and the reality from when Simon was little, it merges both realities into one. Both babies together, both experiences at once. I guess I feel like I am becoming the mother of two, the mother of both. Is this how new mother is born? the mother of two? The new quality is added? The mothering upgrade? am I feeling the extension of my initial mothering experience, its next level? I seriously don't even know, if I am writing it down in any logical way, it is generally hard to put feelings into words and this one is so new and undigested that I am merely experimenting now with naming it...<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-BB9PeVIydlk/Vh7Ag98oGKI/AAAAAAAABGk/8Ui-qg0Ek1Q/s640/blogger-image-584451582.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-BB9PeVIydlk/Vh7Ag98oGKI/AAAAAAAABGk/8Ui-qg0Ek1Q/s640/blogger-image-584451582.jpg" width="480" /></a><br />This feeling is not the only thing that reminds me that I went through all this before. The moment I left the hospital all my worries and fears I faced having Simon, came back with a double whammy. I panicked, I was so fragile after everything my body had gone through, my hormones running havoc, all internal trembles. I remember sitting in my bed the night back nursing Leo and waves after waves of anxiety were creeping under my skin, that burning tingly feeling in your hair cuticles, the cold sweat, the goose bumps... I knew it is a horrible anxiety knocking and inviting itself over. I felt weak and defenseless and horrified it will just overwhelm me and take over my life, I was sinking in, falling into a hole...<br />&nbsp; </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zjOlm6nc85w/Vh7nLS_ZQ_I/AAAAAAAABHo/YRX_VNGyguE/s640/blogger-image-922964143.jpg"><img border="0" class="img1" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zjOlm6nc85w/Vh7nLS_ZQ_I/AAAAAAAABHo/YRX_VNGyguE/s640/blogger-image-922964143.jpg" width="480" /></a>&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div>When I get into this mode I am gone for a while, I feel stuck in a bubble while everyone else is outside. I feel like that fear I cannot fully diagnose prevents me from participating in life, I don't see the reality as reality is, I live in the world of my fears instead, and it feels very lonely and hopeless and just alienating...</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-cAo_zno1xDY/Vh7nK3H4XoI/AAAAAAAABHg/UOcyn_ixDus/s640/blogger-image--826219400.jpg"><img border="0" class="img1" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-cAo_zno1xDY/Vh7nK3H4XoI/AAAAAAAABHg/UOcyn_ixDus/s640/blogger-image--826219400.jpg" /></a><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-B7SXdm8CERQ/Vh7nJTffLoI/AAAAAAAABHI/wZKU6VDtwIc/s400/blogger-image--1206948657.jpg"><img border="0" class="img2" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-B7SXdm8CERQ/Vh7nJTffLoI/AAAAAAAABHI/wZKU6VDtwIc/s400/blogger-image--1206948657.jpg" /></a><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div>I spent a whole 36 hours in this mode, until I finally somehow broke through the haze. It is a different thing every time that saves me from it, usually a simple emotion, sometimes it is love for my family, grace, but sometimes just looking at a sunrise in my bedroom window... when I am finally able to feel happy and safe, that moment is when anxiety leaves, like by a touch of the magic wand, and I am free from the bubble, I am back.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yvoOYMQVRmk/Vh7Af0lrS6I/AAAAAAAABGg/4FCe0pFgBvY/s640/blogger-image-1679647622.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yvoOYMQVRmk/Vh7Af0lrS6I/AAAAAAAABGg/4FCe0pFgBvY/s640/blogger-image-1679647622.jpg" /></a></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div><div>One thing about this curse of mine worth noting is that the very next day after the anxiety goes away, I am a better version of myself, I see so much good in my life and feel happy about so much of it, my heart is softened and grateful and lighter. I simply feel happy that I am back and there is nothing to be scared of. It doesn't last forever either, but it gracefully balances the moments of tremor and fear. Truly it is that the darkness has been made to complement the brightness...</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_JW0Kr89lRc/Vh7nKYKfZlI/AAAAAAAABHY/I3nPcRjvy4s/s640/blogger-image--1382592212.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_JW0Kr89lRc/Vh7nKYKfZlI/AAAAAAAABHY/I3nPcRjvy4s/s640/blogger-image--1382592212.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nyIMjf54EVw/Vh7nHadHuZI/AAAAAAAABG0/I-HYrCLAxEE/s640/blogger-image-251295820.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nyIMjf54EVw/Vh7nHadHuZI/AAAAAAAABG0/I-HYrCLAxEE/s640/blogger-image-251295820.jpg" /></a></div><br /></div><div>With these things, we sometimes feel like we are doing it, causing it to happen and we expect ourselves to make it stop, to control it and a lot of times it is just so much stronger than us and will happen no matter what we do or think... I had thoughts like "why is it happening again? Am I not happy enough to have Leo, am I doing something wrong? Am I thinking the wrong things? My life could be so perfect right now if I didn't do THIS? Why do I always think the wrong things and make THIS happen to me?!"</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-V_PpDneFypI/Vh_skdIEFjI/AAAAAAAABH4/lHmkvRdbwso/s640/blogger-image--736087920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-V_PpDneFypI/Vh_skdIEFjI/AAAAAAAABH4/lHmkvRdbwso/s640/blogger-image--736087920.jpg" /></a></div><br /></div><div>But these thoughts are unfair, and make it all worse really, I know it is not me doing it and I just have to chew through it and wait it out... the real me is what comes after the clouds drift off. Guilt be gone...<br />&nbsp;<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-eBt4RYWzBWw/Vh7nJ4bvhCI/AAAAAAAABHQ/QBUPM10BuvM/s640/blogger-image-798448987.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-eBt4RYWzBWw/Vh7nJ4bvhCI/AAAAAAAABHQ/QBUPM10BuvM/s640/blogger-image-798448987.jpg" width="528" /></a></div><div>I only had one bad panic attack so far, I am mostly managing well, I have a lot of anxiety, but it is nothing like the attacks. I know it will come back at some point, when my body gets weak and unprepared... then I want to be stronger mentally and calmer repeating my mantra that my kids are okay and will be fine with their mom just not doing so great for a day or two. Because really, it is okay, we are not perfect, I am not perfect and I need to be okay with that to be better.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-AoUgx1v76xA/Vh_slNEo-MI/AAAAAAAABH8/dp7czC0U-54/s640/blogger-image--1836876012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-AoUgx1v76xA/Vh_slNEo-MI/AAAAAAAABH8/dp7czC0U-54/s640/blogger-image--1836876012.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /></div><div></div><div>But this post was supposed to be about Leo, well Leo and I together... We are always together, he seems to need the fourth trimester much more than Simon did, he nurses more often and sleeps less. He doesn't like to be away from me, much more than his older brother who could be put down anywhere and held by anyone. He is gaining plenty of weight and sometimes even will sleep for three hours if in our bed at night, but he also has a bit of a shallow latch and some issues with plugged eye ducts so we have to work on some things and just trust that everything will resolve well. Either way, Leo is a part of our family as if he was always with us, time feels relative and looped around his birth to create an infinity of our love for him, from the beginning of days till forever. Welcome to the world baby Leo, this is your crazy family, be gentle and patient with us, we love you so!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0j_Qnh8fv-o/Vh_slz1H6II/AAAAAAAABIE/jKI-hS9XFlk/s640/blogger-image-1044046738.jpg"><img border="0" class="img1" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0j_Qnh8fv-o/Vh_slz1H6II/AAAAAAAABIE/jKI-hS9XFlk/s640/blogger-image-1044046738.jpg" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-BnFr5525x_0/VhqBlEw9qsI/AAAAAAAABFc/lmvIcHyI450/s640/blogger-image-721234137.jpg"><img border="0" class="img2" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-BnFr5525x_0/VhqBlEw9qsI/AAAAAAAABFc/lmvIcHyI450/s640/blogger-image-721234137.jpg" /></a> <br /><div>Now off to write his birth story, it is going to be a long one...</div><div><br /></div>Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-33876839021413889352015-09-09T19:42:00.000-07:002015-09-10T17:54:01.092-07:00{ waiting game vs a surprise party }<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5iCQ_qmM4a8/VfDsJyTRZmI/AAAAAAAABEc/fznUdd0KDVw/s640/blogger-image--1202084896.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5iCQ_qmM4a8/VfDsJyTRZmI/AAAAAAAABEc/fznUdd0KDVw/s1600/blogger-image--1202084896.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div>In all honesty, I didn't think I would make it this far, I never suspected that this baby will stay inside this long and so avidly...<br />In all honesty, I never believed in my body very much, not before and not particularly now... One could say, I am one ungrateful body possessor, always have been, which is sad yet true, but body image aside...<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="more"></a> <br /><a name='more'></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5_p3jR7x3AY/VfDsKcm2z7I/AAAAAAAABEk/gT_oFEesy5U/s640/blogger-image--1038654827.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5_p3jR7x3AY/VfDsKcm2z7I/AAAAAAAABEk/gT_oFEesy5U/s640/blogger-image--1038654827.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-N0A4-o5pGyY/VfDsLL9LPMI/AAAAAAAABEs/K3iNMlOlqBQ/s640/blogger-image--1118795281.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-N0A4-o5pGyY/VfDsLL9LPMI/AAAAAAAABEs/K3iNMlOlqBQ/s640/blogger-image--1118795281.jpg" /></a> <br /><br />When it comes to pregnancy, I always thought I am a phony, that my body is a phony, it never occurred to me that it has been cut to make perfect babies and deliver them into the world in the most magical and safest of ways possible. I envy women who feel like that, fertile goddesses with the birthing powers... So I pretend I am one of them, but I am not. I don't believe in my body very much nor in my abilities in making babies, I still look at Simon and wonder how the hell did I even mange to get something this perfect? What gives? Effing miracle! How was it possible that I did not ruin him and helped him get into the world, weird feelings but truthful ones...<br /><div><br /><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UGHybJ87TXw/Ve-T5GYMRnI/AAAAAAAABD8/D17rA_saqqs/s640/blogger-image--1647558351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UGHybJ87TXw/Ve-T5GYMRnI/AAAAAAAABD8/D17rA_saqqs/s640/blogger-image--1647558351.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-VH2A3HhhPQE/Ve-T6Qw7lRI/AAAAAAAABEM/T9wvqJkSYcc/s640/blogger-image--676969039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-VH2A3HhhPQE/Ve-T6Qw7lRI/AAAAAAAABEM/T9wvqJkSYcc/s640/blogger-image--676969039.jpg" /></a></div><br /><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SbdWAFB044w/Ve-T5noFiLI/AAAAAAAABEE/sDuE3A4TaoE/s640/blogger-image-684643166.jpg" /></div><div></div><div><div><br /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">With this baby, I am even more insecure and worried, maybe because this time I decided to embrace, or should I say rather, try to find an inch of the fertile goddess in me and went ahead with the midwives to lead my pregnancy. They tell you even less about everything, there is only one ultrasound... You have to trust your body... Like whaaat!? How do I even do it? my body can screw up people!? Someone please check on it more!? a voice in my head yells every week I go to see the midwife...&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">With Simon being three weeks early, having induced his labor at 36 weeks and 5 days due to a broken sac of water, no contractions, possible infections... After 12 hours of agony and worry that it was too soon, not like I thought it would have been, and all wrong, he came into my arms in the most perfect and calmest of ways, surprised me with everything... surprised me with his strength and endurance through the induction, the ease of the actual delivery and beauty of his birth, it was a miracle, indeed... He was just perfect. Labor was not anything like I imagined but birth was everything and more. I cannot comprehend I can feel that way again.... But here I am waiting for his brother, like a cry wolf announcing that I am not lasting till the due date with this one for sure... That my body will probably screw up again. But for now it is holding on and seems like can carry a baby to full term.</span><br /></div><div></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-C6VSxg0bgcI/Ve-T3ESIU5I/AAAAAAAABDk/9cPQ-psFXNU/s640/blogger-image-1138760737.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-C6VSxg0bgcI/Ve-T3ESIU5I/AAAAAAAABDk/9cPQ-psFXNU/s640/blogger-image-1138760737.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-74m_y1gADUs/Ve-T4S6AC8I/AAAAAAAABD0/j5gL3CPvq_U/s640/blogger-image-1048318534.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-74m_y1gADUs/Ve-T4S6AC8I/AAAAAAAABD0/j5gL3CPvq_U/s640/blogger-image-1048318534.jpg" /></a></div></div><div><br /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">However, with each day I feel like I am further from having a baby than closer to holding one, it is so weird, don't really understand it. Instead of the confidence that should come from the wait, it is planting new fears in my head and heart. A billion of them really. And just like back then a total surprise was my reason or should I say, excuse to be scared and worried, it looks like the wait and uncertainty do the same for me, just because it is different now and even more perfect how I wanted it back then, it has not gotten any easier not to be scared...</span><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-bIENGRIHzlA/Ve-T2QxMY_I/AAAAAAAABDc/CN2cFaFAnnM/s640/blogger-image-1072017595.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-bIENGRIHzlA/Ve-T2QxMY_I/AAAAAAAABDc/CN2cFaFAnnM/s640/blogger-image-1072017595.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">All in all - being my favorite meaningless saying - I know I need to be nicer to myself, and probably I should end this post with some sort of pledge to trust in myself and all, that there is nothing wrong with me and I don't need to follow all the book like examples of perfect labors to experience the miracle of birth, cause luckily it is such a freaking grande miracle that even less effectively contracting bodies will get to experience eventually and I could not be happier about that part.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So see you in the other side of bumps, I think these were my last bump style pictures, we took them over the Labor-ahem- day weekend and the very top ones are my last ones from yesterday taken between one contraction and the other, dully noted for the memory books.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-78V0uyjCz1o/Ve-T35_OQDI/AAAAAAAABDs/yzNDi-lr-lU/s640/blogger-image--424769670.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-78V0uyjCz1o/Ve-T35_OQDI/AAAAAAAABDs/yzNDi-lr-lU/s640/blogger-image--424769670.jpg" /></a></div><br /><br /></div></div></div>Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-70080424268899525582015-09-02T19:56:00.001-07:002015-09-04T18:06:07.026-07:00{ Chicago-dog days of summer }<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-g3FznGq6k1I/Vee_aLpuJQI/AAAAAAAABDA/ZFUEdehzxc4/s640/blogger-image--986821585.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-g3FznGq6k1I/Vee_aLpuJQI/AAAAAAAABDA/ZFUEdehzxc4/s640/blogger-image--986821585.jpg" /></a></div><br /></div>Chicago can be weatherly cruel, oh yes, it can stab you in the back many times with its bipolar moodiness, but by the middle of August, through September and sometimes - if kind enough, and slightly distracted perhaps- through October, it will cuddle you in its sunny glory. These are the golden days the city's crammed population lives for, waits for ten months just to witness these dog days of summer, really, Chicago ethos. We have enjoyed a great deal of this late summer, or what westerners would call the Indian summer, simply golden times.<br /><br /><a name='more'></a><br /><div><br /><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7TG_IDbAMIQ/Vee_XUzpkZI/AAAAAAAABCg/u9zkMw8GB68/s640/blogger-image-1100430616.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7TG_IDbAMIQ/Vee_XUzpkZI/AAAAAAAABCg/u9zkMw8GB68/s640/blogger-image-1100430616.jpg" /></a></div><br /></div><div>On these days, &nbsp;it feels like a sin to stay at home, it is literally like the city is injected with some custom guilt feeling to "better go out enjoy it". Since, I cannot deal with any guilty feelings additionally to my regular ones, we usually venture out. Most days we don't have a plan, we never know where to go so we let the city tell us what to do, hola indecisiveness! &nbsp;We let it guide us through each weekend, sort of like: zoo is crowded today, keep on driving and do the downtown stuff, or this festival waves its entry fee, go hit it up and be squished in the crowds, but for free. That is us, and the city, that is how we roll these days.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TROlzQAyt38/Vee_Zncj0eI/AAAAAAAABC4/ixtssaY-rxw/s640/blogger-image--703027775.jpg"><img border="0" class="img1" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TROlzQAyt38/Vee_Zncj0eI/AAAAAAAABC4/ixtssaY-rxw/s640/blogger-image--703027775.jpg" /></a>&nbsp; <br /><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The incredible change this year that won't last long, yet felt pretty great while it did, was our complete lack of stuff to haul, we don't pack anything, we just leave the house... How did we get there? How did we arrive at the place where there is three of us and we just put on shoes and leave? There is no need for diaper bags, snacks are not mandatory as we can buy something anywhere, in fact, it makes it more fun to do so, no strollers, baby carriers, nothing... We have a big boy now, he explores the city with u, he even knows how to use a public restroom sans sitting and will voluntarily wash his hands afterwards, we are winning at life currently... For a few more days, until we need a mule to tag half of our household with us, but these last days of just the three of us, independent people, are pretty great, it is pretty great to see Simon like this, I tap myself on the shoulder and say, I got this one this far, I think I can manage the next one somehow...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gkmT72_1_yY/Vee_Wz7nxOI/AAAAAAAABCY/5csNqyhamSE/s640/blogger-image-349821704.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gkmT72_1_yY/Vee_Wz7nxOI/AAAAAAAABCY/5csNqyhamSE/s1600/blogger-image-349821704.jpg" /></a></div><div>Last weekend, we decided to let Simon explore the new Chicago attraction, located right in the heart of the city, Maggie Daley park. Created with the thought "for big and small, fun for all", the park is huge and even the elder can find spots to play. In fact, according to some news outlets there are areas of the park too extreme even for the parents, as many injuries are reported. It looks like the attraction has been created for kids, adults and extreme sports enthusiasts. But aside from that, it is a mustsee and a muststop for all toddlers and kids in the city, visiting the city or even driving through the city - well, in their car seats obviously, not driving driving.... The place is of course obnoxiously crowded and busy all the time, but that is it, I said it, I said it, during the Chicago-dog days of summer everyone is out. The pathways leading up to the park remind me of little ant alleys constantly pumping ant-people in, but the park is really of no small size since all load up and there is not backups and everyone just flows right in and doesn't bounce back or anything... It is cool like that!&nbsp;</div><div>We plan to squeeze this city like a lemon till it freezes again and hibernates, but yes shortly we will need a mule to help with that.<br /><br />anja: dress c/o <a href="http://storq.com/" target="_blank">Storq</a>, shoes: Converse, hat and bag: Zara<br />simon: shirt <a href="http://ju-inspiration.com/" target="_blank">c/o ju.inspiratio</a>n, shoes: avarcas, shorts and hat: Zara kids </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-L721k9Lr9mI/Vee_Yl3N5PI/AAAAAAAABCw/TkdP0tqXISQ/s640/blogger-image--1006285399.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-L721k9Lr9mI/Vee_Yl3N5PI/AAAAAAAABCw/TkdP0tqXISQ/s640/blogger-image--1006285399.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-fRbWegqvw9E/Vee_YCssLrI/AAAAAAAABCo/MRJTX7soAWU/s640/blogger-image--562474798.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-fRbWegqvw9E/Vee_YCssLrI/AAAAAAAABCo/MRJTX7soAWU/s640/blogger-image--562474798.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-L1tZ_Yqe_8M/Vee_WPFeZFI/AAAAAAAABCQ/5A3XkBXczpk/s640/blogger-image-888047696.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><br /><br /></div></div>Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-35688769376738544682015-08-28T06:30:00.000-07:002015-08-28T06:30:01.901-07:00{38 reflections }<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-i6QqcnPOUbo/VdjqnDcmNQI/AAAAAAAABAE/SItnUWCl4aI/s640/blogger-image--1753413880.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-i6QqcnPOUbo/VdjqnDcmNQI/AAAAAAAABAE/SItnUWCl4aI/s1600/blogger-image--1753413880.jpg" /></a></div><br />Just kidding even I cannot come up with 38 reflections, but there is a few I wanted to write down, probably mostly for myself to remember for next time if I get pregnant again...<br /><br />-I am feeling heavy, achy, and sort of.. okay, more like really, really - uncomfortable, and all the time. I wake up tired, because sleeping feels like a chore. I don't like the fact I can not bend in any direction or even hug Simon cause his head bounces off the giant ball between us, but any time I start feeling sorry for myself, when that thought of "man this is hard" appears, I sort of get angry with myself. Angry, that I am not cherishing it as I should, it is such a special time after all, such a freaking gift and a privilege, I should be more grateful for things like this. I mean we only do this so many times in life and it is magic, really, vericose veins and all.<br /><br /><a name='more'></a><br />-I also get a bit angry, that I don't remember feeling this way with Simon, was I better then, gosh I hate a thought I could have been better at something and I am failing to do so now...?&nbsp; Maybe I am just getting older, or maybe my memories faded over time, or maybe I just have a different pregnancy this time and just like from the very beginning I need to learn to accept the fact, no kids are the same nor pregnancies, nor nothing really, even snowflakes, so I need to stop being silly.<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3n3DcnvmLhE/Vdjqn15t2zI/AAAAAAAABAQ/jhiXgflV5ko/s640/blogger-image-1985999334.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" class="img1" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3n3DcnvmLhE/Vdjqn15t2zI/AAAAAAAABAQ/jhiXgflV5ko/s400/blogger-image-1985999334.jpg" width="300" /></a> <a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WjVK3QSJVgU/VdjqmqN0gyI/AAAAAAAABAA/OEGDsHurJME/s640/blogger-image--1822315548.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" class="img2" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WjVK3QSJVgU/VdjqmqN0gyI/AAAAAAAABAA/OEGDsHurJME/s400/blogger-image--1822315548.jpg" width="300" /></a><br /><br />On another note there are things that are just legendary, like I basically need to park in two parking spots to get out of the car. I use pregnancy brain as excuses for things I would do anyway, pregnant or not, like starting to wash off my nail polish, stopping half way interrupted by a toddler and letting some fingernails still linger on for days with the lovely shades of peeled walls. See below, one clean, one not.<br />I abuse, with cold blood for the matter,&nbsp; the very fact that I can use the pregnancy excuse to get out of things, I mean how easy is it? "sorry, cant do it, I am pregnant", one cannot force a pregnant woman to anything really, and I mean anything, cleaning, walking, doing whatever, basically I can get away acting like a toddler, I can say and do what I want and nobody will blame me too much for it, gosh how hard will it be not to hide behind pregnancy and hormones again, acting like an adult is rather hard.<br /><br />But aside it all, this can be my last bump sesh, and my last days with this little body inside of mine, and I just want to lock this following sentence forever in my heart, "carrying you in me was always my greatest privilege and my greatest joy, the best things I did in life is carry you and your bother to life".<br /><br />Over and out, now watch me come back with twenty more preggo outfit posts.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-xoagqnkLVbo/Vdjql-PckQI/AAAAAAAAA_4/sarjub59P9k/s640/blogger-image-1282746774.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-xoagqnkLVbo/Vdjql-PckQI/AAAAAAAAA_4/sarjub59P9k/s640/blogger-image-1282746774.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><br />Skirt c/o <a href="http://storq.com/products/skirt" target="_blank">Storq</a>, shirt: UrbanOutfitters, shoes: <a href="http://shop.nordstrom.com/s/converse-chuck-taylor-all-star-ox-sneaker-women/3584668?cm_mmc=Bing_PLA-_-datafeed-_-women:shoes:sneaker-_-955538&amp;mr:referralID=78e312ca-4d22-11e5-86b7-0050569406b5" target="_blank">Converse</a>, glasses: H&amp;M<br /><br />Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-46590425571906797002015-08-21T18:45:00.002-07:002015-08-26T17:08:27.900-07:00{ when the lightest meets the heaviest }<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_C2Jb0eq9wk/VdfRFrwmD_I/AAAAAAAAA-k/FMI5FCZ-mvM/s640/blogger-image-833037220.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_C2Jb0eq9wk/VdfRFrwmD_I/AAAAAAAAA-k/FMI5FCZ-mvM/s640/blogger-image-833037220.jpg" width="545" /> </a></div><br />I am hitting the unknown territory here, arriving at 37 weeks of pregnancy is something I have not done before, by now I would be holding Simon in my arms enjoying the 7.11" of his glory. I assume his brother is of similar size now, because I am feeling really, really heavy these days. At my last midwife appointment I was measuring a week ahead all the sudden, so it looks like we are working on something big over here.<br /><br />I said it many times now that I used to be such a hard butt on not owning much of pregnancy gear, but from this point forward I just don't know how to do it anymore, it is all getting out of control and every angle of me has changed its shape by now. I call this integrated expansion. And for those last days or weeks of this really fine stretching to the limit, and testing one's skin elasticity to a see-through point of no return, one needs some comfort.<br /><a name='more'></a><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4ATMz109v6k/VdfRDeHPnfI/AAAAAAAAA-M/yYqCdMnzSEU/s640/blogger-image--20304812.jpg"><img border="0" class="img1" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4ATMz109v6k/VdfRDeHPnfI/AAAAAAAAA-M/yYqCdMnzSEU/s400/blogger-image--20304812.jpg" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-rTUQy-DadII/VdfRE1LUuUI/AAAAAAAAA-c/sm1rMzr_tok/s640/blogger-image--651465259.jpg"><img border="0" class="img2" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-rTUQy-DadII/VdfRE1LUuUI/AAAAAAAAA-c/sm1rMzr_tok/s400/blogger-image--651465259.jpg" /></a> <a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qAdDb5WQ7dQ/VdfREKACuwI/AAAAAAAAA-U/JJda4xozoTo/s640/blogger-image-1475814224.jpg"><img border="0" class="img1" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qAdDb5WQ7dQ/VdfREKACuwI/AAAAAAAAA-U/JJda4xozoTo/s320/blogger-image-1475814224.jpg" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ZFjUqwHvVDY/VdfRGuDE3yI/AAAAAAAAA-s/wYpc3mIvCnk/s640/blogger-image-1274482362.jpg"> <img border="0" class="img2" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ZFjUqwHvVDY/VdfRGuDE3yI/AAAAAAAAA-s/wYpc3mIvCnk/s320/blogger-image-1274482362.jpg" width="285" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left; clear: left;">As soon as I opened the basics bundle from <a href="http://storq.com/" target="_blank">StorQ</a>, I wanted that softness surrounding my body, no bulging stitch lines, no rough fabrics, pure bliss of gentleness and stretchiness. I may wear it till I give birth... but who am I kidding, that would assume I can keep my clothing in a relatively clean state for more than a day, and that is just ludicrous.</div><br />I don't know how it happens but everything lands on my belly/chest region,&nbsp; which at this point has merged together and created a perfect helicopter landing zone. Thus, by the end of the day the white top is usually covered with spots and splatters documenting my menu better than a menu diary. But that is just what these last weeks of pregnancy are all about, comfy, clumsy, comfy, covered in food, comfy, have to pee, back is hurting, oh so comfy but so not, etc.etc.<br /><br />I don't know how many days/weeks I have left with this belly of mine, lets hope no more than three, cause longer would be just crazy long for being pregnant. But I hope the hump-bump lingers as long as it wants to, because yes, I am one of those women that enjoys being pregnant, I like pregnancy and bumps and everything that comes with them, including the varicose veins, thus knowing it is the finishing stretch has me admitably ultra clunky and wishing time didn't have to go by this fast.<br /><br />But then there is the next chapter, the next level.... aaaaaaand I am getting very excited and overwhelmed with emotion at a mere thought of meeting this fuzzy bebe, reliving these birthing moments of amazingness, witnessing the miracle, that is something I really, really can give up the belly for.<br /><br /><a href="http://storq.com/collections/basics" target="_blank">Leggins</a> and <a href="http://storq.com/collections/basics" target="_blank">tank</a> c/o <a href="http://storq.com/" target="_blank">Storq </a><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ZFjUqwHvVDY/VdfRGuDE3yI/AAAAAAAAA-s/wYpc3mIvCnk/s640/blogger-image-1274482362.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099230773617547385.post-28193710828687226212015-08-20T19:31:00.000-07:002015-08-27T17:11:29.755-07:00{ Hello }<h3> FAQs </h3><h4>But not the fulminating kind </h4>Note that it is the first fact I want people to know about me strictly, because I am following my natural patterns of associations. So yes, I do course on occasion. I think there is a time and a &nbsp;place for a good course word, sometimes Polish, sometimes English, context-wise permitting.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0jy4fMlnJeA/Vdphe9107rI/AAAAAAAABBA/7QaLmwwHX40/s640/blogger-image-240348478.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0jy4fMlnJeA/Vdphe9107rI/AAAAAAAABBA/7QaLmwwHX40/s640/blogger-image-240348478.jpg" /></a></div><br /><b>Why another blog?</b><br />There is about a billion unoriginal reasons why people do it and I am doing it for all of them, but hey, I have more, so here is another one, maybe you have not heared that one before. So, I really wanted a place for all the outtakes of the pictures I save on my camera roll, for reals. I usually obey the sacred, unspoken rule of Instagram not to spam and choose to post just one picture, but I keep all the outtakes and they haunt me at night. I just want them to be used, somewhere, thus I am keeping them for something, at &nbsp;this point I am on a verge of spamming Instagram and that is just such a faux pas... so bear with me, I need a happy space to upload the pictures, and simply clean up my phone instead of saving them for God knows what. And then I always want to say so much, I just have words in my head that need a more solid outlet than a caption or w comment, so here is my resolve.<br /><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t4Rna3vmO0o/VdXmeW3LCDI/AAAAAAAAA88/qftnTdi7ooM/s640/blogger-image--527695193.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t4Rna3vmO0o/VdXmeW3LCDI/AAAAAAAAA88/qftnTdi7ooM/s400/blogger-image--527695193.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2RtcnXtIFJQ/VdXmfBHle5I/AAAAAAAAA9E/dqbsvd3rKXA/s640/blogger-image--339437130.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2RtcnXtIFJQ/VdXmfBHle5I/AAAAAAAAA9E/dqbsvd3rKXA/s400/blogger-image--339437130.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t4Rna3vmO0o/VdXmeW3LCDI/AAAAAAAAA88/qftnTdi7ooM/s640/blogger-image--527695193.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> <br /><br /><a name='more'></a><br /><br /><b>A Pole in the States? that one always has me explaining.</b><br /><div class="MsoNormal">Here is a little story about that: I was born and raised in Poland, my whole family still lives there and I miss them dearly, but I try to visit them as often as I can and that is a great part of living away - the reunions and happy vacations together. I met my husband, James, when as a polish exchange student came to the USA. We dated long-distance for 4 years, back and forth, back and forth, because I decided that no matter what I needed to finish my degree that I had started in Poland. He would visit me in the winter and I would go back to the States during the summers. He was going to college as well. When we finally graduated, we decided to do something with our unconventional relationship. We had so much invested in it (just the plane tickets would probably amount to a nice car, or two and a boat, okay maybe not a boat). After all, these were my prime dating years - hello, my beautiful youth- so the stakes were high, our youth and riches…. Long story short, we decided we could not live without each other any longer. We got married and I moved to the USA permanently and shortly after we settled in Chicago, where we both found jobs. We bought a place here but who knows if Chicago is our final destination, my view on that verifies every day, I believe the world is still open for me , for our family.<br /><br /><!-- READ MORE --> <a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1FeZev_vNm0/VdXmfk8QGEI/AAAAAAAAA9M/25PkqNGi7rI/s640/blogger-image-56864814.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1FeZev_vNm0/VdXmfk8QGEI/AAAAAAAAA9M/25PkqNGi7rI/s400/blogger-image-56864814.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-aksXi3wgOe4/VdXmd4DRp1I/AAAAAAAAA80/LJA-aQfWibw/s640/blogger-image--1802149357.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-aksXi3wgOe4/VdXmd4DRp1I/AAAAAAAAA80/LJA-aQfWibw/s400/blogger-image--1802149357.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1FeZev_vNm0/VdXmfk8QGEI/AAAAAAAAA9M/25PkqNGi7rI/s640/blogger-image-56864814.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /><b>What is my style?</b> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Style? Big word! whenever I don't know what to write on a certain topic, I usually start with a dictionary definition of a key word, that way I think I sound knowledgeable, let's give it a try shall we.. well... according to the Webster dictionary style is:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="&#45;-"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument></xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true" DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99" LatentStyleCount="267"> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" 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Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/> </w:LatentStyles></xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]><style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style><![endif]--> <br /><div class="MsoNormal">: a particular way in which something is done, created, or performed</div><div class="MsoNormal">: a particular form or design of something</div><div class="MsoNormal">: a way of behaving or of doing things</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />In such context, a style is something unique to every person, every human on this planet has a style, so my style is... well, mine! That is it! Could it be? It does evolve and change alongside my very being. I would lie, however, if I said it is just me because of me, oh no, style, a personal style or simply style of every person is influenced by something, this something can be anything, I know, I sound ridiculous right now, but I think you know what I mean. After all, we are all intertwined, connected and vine-like, so my very personal style can be very well influenced by another style of another person, one's life events, culture, anything really. What is worth noting and could be a rather meta reflection is that what I wear now may not be what I want to wear in 5 years and that is okay, it has been like that before, but lately it got me thinking that I want to change that very fact. Now, I try to venture into shapes and forms that will stand a chance with the perspective of time.. Okay, wheew, that was interesting, lets leave it at that. I am sure I will ramble on this topic in every other post as this blog is my way of trying to get there.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Nx7dgJg_XaE/VdXmdACuLlI/AAAAAAAAA8s/9VBwkv8DEWE/s640/blogger-image--1628000841.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Nx7dgJg_XaE/VdXmdACuLlI/AAAAAAAAA8s/9VBwkv8DEWE/s640/blogger-image--1628000841.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jn7PcvxOoxA/VdXmce-cNRI/AAAAAAAAA8k/DJcFNbIsPfY/s640/blogger-image-574739755.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jn7PcvxOoxA/VdXmce-cNRI/AAAAAAAAA8k/DJcFNbIsPfY/s640/blogger-image-574739755.jpg" width="480" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jn7PcvxOoxA/VdXmce-cNRI/AAAAAAAAA8k/DJcFNbIsPfY/s640/blogger-image-574739755.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jn7PcvxOoxA/VdXmce-cNRI/AAAAAAAAA8k/DJcFNbIsPfY/s640/blogger-image-574739755.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jn7PcvxOoxA/VdXmce-cNRI/AAAAAAAAA8k/DJcFNbIsPfY/s640/blogger-image-574739755.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ofDekCCtgi4/VdvhXBsxErI/AAAAAAAABBo/0GzTNDuOVug/s640/blogger-image--2076737141.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ofDekCCtgi4/VdvhXBsxErI/AAAAAAAABBo/0GzTNDuOVug/s640/blogger-image--2076737141.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TuH9GlMAOMo/VdvhWtkUiRI/AAAAAAAABBg/8LK1izf-nVs/s640/blogger-image--1322805013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TuH9GlMAOMo/VdvhWtkUiRI/AAAAAAAABBg/8LK1izf-nVs/s640/blogger-image--1322805013.jpg" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /></div></div><br /><br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings></xml><![endif]-->Anjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17263672692864744397noreply@blogger.com4